MARCELLE 

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-  •':  Jk-  V  .Jfc.  <Ji  ;  •   m-  M*r 


Books  Ex< 

HOLMES 
as*  sou* 


MARCELLE  THE  MAD 


MUM,  OF  CALIF.  LB,  IA»  ANGELES 


M ARCELLE 
THE  MAD  *  * 


By 
SETH    COOK    COMSTOCK 


D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

NEW    YORK 

i  906 


COPYRIGHT,  1906,  BY 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Published  March,  1906 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGB 

I. — As  TOLD  BY  MONSIEUR  VIGNOLLES  i 

II. — WHAT  THE  CONSTABLE  HEARD 20 

III. — RAGE  AND  RUIN 38 

IV. — COMPANIONS  OF  THE  GREEN  TENT        .        .        .        .49 
V. — THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  LADY  AGATHE  .        .        .        .    67 

VI. — A  CHANGE  OF  ESCORT 81 

VII. — MY  LORD'S  MESSENGER 100 

VIII. — AFTER  THE  STORM 113 

IX. — THE  STILL,  SMALL  VOICE 133 

X. — ON  TO  THE  VINE-GROWER'S 149 

XL— UNDER  THE  GREAT  BALD  KNOLL 170 

XII.— GONE! 183 

XIII.— THE  FATES  AND  CREPIN  BRUNE 197 

XIV. — THE  STAMP  OF  MORET  THE  ARMOURER       .        .        .208 

XV.— IN  THE  MARKET-PLACE 226 

XVI.— A  MESSAGE  FROM  GASPARD  LENOIR     .        .        .        •  239 

XVII.— AT  THE  WIDOW  GALIOT'S 255 

XVIII.— ON  THE  OTHER  SIDE  OF  THE  DOOR     .        .        •        •  274 

XIX.— FROM  OUT  THE  HAZE 293 

XX.— A  BREAK  IN  THE  LINES 3" 

XXI.— DAUPHINE 324 


2126230 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


CHAPTER  I 

AS    TOLD   BY   MONSIEUR    VIGNOLLES 

FAR  and  wide  flew  the  grim  summons. 
The  peasant  of  Luxembourg,  wending  his 
weary  way  homeward  through  the  twilight, 
started  at  the  loud  clatter  of  hoofs  on  the 
poplar-lined  road  behind  him  and  leaped  aside  barely  in 
time  to  give  the  scurrying  messenger  free  passage.  The 
mill-hand  of  Flanders  checked  his  beast  in  its  monoto- 
nous round  and  forgot  his  grist  in  staring  at  this  sudden 
apparition.  The  simple  man  of  Burgundy  gazed  search- 
ingly  from  under  his  red-stained  hand,  then  left  his  drip- 
ping wine-press  and  hastened  to  his  neighbour's  to  learn 
what  was  afoot.  (Alas,  his  hand  was  soon  to  be  dyed 
even  more  deeply,  but  in  far  different  fashion!)  In  dis- 
tant Artois,  my  lord,  returning  with  his  merry  company 
from  the  hunt,  met  the  flying  courier  at  the  very  gates 
of  his  castle,  and  the  laughter  was  stilled  as  he  caught 
the  herald's  message. 

No  vassal  was  there  of  all  the  great  House  of  Bur- 
gundy who  escaped  the  stern  call  and  none  was  there 
who  dared  set  it  at  naught.  For  the  last  time,  Monseig- 
neur  the  Duke,  despite  his  threescore  years  and  ten, 
was  to  take  the  field.  Yet  now,  it  was  no  longer  the 

I 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


King  of  France  to  whom  he  opposed  himself,  but  the 
rebellious  and  brawling  people  of  Liege  and  Dinant,  who 
had  dared  set  his  will  at  defiance.  That  Louis  XL's 
hands  were  fully  occupied  with  his  greedy  designs  upon 
Normandy  gave  Monseigneur  the  freer  scope  for  the 
terrible  revenge  he  meditated,  for  well  did  he  know  that 
the  king  would  never  abandon  his  greater  aim  to  suc- 
cour the  Liegeoise.  Therefore,  over  every  road  leading 
from  Bruges  sped  the  galloping  heralds  bearing  their 
dread  summons  to  arms.  No  commonplace  foray  had 
Monseigneur  in  mind,  but  a  bitter,  ruthless  vengeance; 
and  that  none  might  fail  to  understand,  these  riders  bore 
aloft  in  one  hand  a  blazing  torch,  in  the  other  a  naked 
sword — fit  omens  of  what  was  to  follow. 

And  what  offence  had  so  enraged  Monseigneur  the 
Duke;  what  insolent  act  had  the  Liegeoise  committed 
which  could  so  fearfully  rouse  his  wrath?  Small  reason 
and  less  safety  would  there  have  been  in  asking  such 
question  of  any  Burgundian.  If  Monseigneur  had  been 
pleased  to  obtain  the  appointment  of  his  nephew,  Louis 
de  Bourbon,  as  Bishop  of  Liege,  whose  affair  was  that 
but  his  own  and  the  Pope's?  If  the  new  bishop  had 
soon  proved  himself  a  profligate,  and  had  levied  extor- 
tionate tribute  upon  the  people,  was  that  any  plea  for 
their  rising  in  revolt  and  driving  him  from  their  midst? 
Nay,  rather  were  the  bishop's  faults  due  to  his  unripe 
years — since  he  had  not  yet  attained  a  score,  and  were 
to  be  passed  over  as  something  transient.  What  Mon- 
seigneur had  ordained  must  be  endured;  so  argued  the 
men  of  Burgundy. 

Yet,  strangely  enough,  the  Liegeoise  had  failed  to 
see  the  matter  in  the  same  light;  had  refused  to  submit 
to  being  plundered  of  their  savings  for  the  profit  of  the 
bishop's  courtesans;  and  when  warned  by  the  duke,  had 

2 


AS   TOLD  BY   MONSIEUR   VIGNOLLES 

hurled  defiance  back  at  him  for  answer.  In  all  the 
province,  but  one  town,  Bouvignes,  had  remained  loyal 
to  Monseigneur,  and,  conversely,  none  had  gone  further 
in  opposing  him  than  the  town  of  Dinant  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  Meuse.  Hence,  in  the  nature  of  things,  an 
interurban  warfare  had  sprung  up  between  the  people 
of  these  two  towns,  and  Bouvignes,  getting  the  worst 
of  the  encounter,  had  appealed  to  Monseigneur  for  aid. 

The  bishop  had  fled  to  Huy,  taking  with  him  his 
dissolute  and  fearful  followers,  but  not  ere  his  brief  rule 
had  thrown  Liege  into  a  state  of  unrestrained  lawless- 
ness. Thousands,  ruined  by  his  excesses,  had  forsaken 
their  homes  and  now  roamed  the  vast  forest  of  Ar- 
dennes, living  the  lives  of  outlaws  and  balking  at  no 
crime  which  desperate  men  and  women  may  contrive. 
Companions  of  the  Green  Tent  they  called  themselves, 
and  woe  to  any  traveller  who  fell  within  their  clutches. 

Of  all  these  bands,  one  there  was  which  was  most 
dreaded.  It  ranged  over  the  hills  about  Dinant,  whence 
most  of  its  members  had  come,  pouncing  upon  any  who 
were  so  uninformed  as  to  choose  that  route  through  the 
forest,  and  warring  with  its  neighbouring  bands,  though 
few  of  the  latter  had  any  chance  in  such  meeting. 
Strange  to  say,  the  leader  of  this  coterie  of  outlaws 
was  said  to  be  a  woman  calling  herself  Marcelle  the 
Mad ;  yet,  in  truth,  there  was  little  of  the  woman  show- 
ing in  the  doings  of  her  company.  But  above  all  other 
qualifications  in  a  follower,  she  was  held  to  rate  hatred 
of  the  House  of  Burgundy,  and  certain  it  was  that  many 
a  Burgundian  disappeared  into  that  part  of  the  forest 
where  she  held  sway,  never  to  return. 

Thus  it  was  that  at  last  the  duke  roused  to  action. 
Bitterly  he  railed  at  the  Companions  of  the  Green  Tent ; 
more  bitterly  he  ranted  against  this  Marcelle  the  Mad; 

3 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


but  most  bitterly  of  all  did  he  swear  dire  vengeance  upon 
the  town  of  Dinant,  the  very  breeding-nest  of  the  gen- 
eral revolt. 

Yet,  now  that  the  call  had  gone  forth,  Monseigneur, 
enfeebled  by  age,  found  that  his  strength  was  unequal 
to  taking  full  charge  of  operations.  Fortunately,  in  his 
own  son,  the  Count  de  Charolais,  he  had  a  ready  and 
trusted  lieutenant,  and  to  him  did  he  confide  the  mus- 
tering of  the  host  which  was  to  crush  all  sedition  in 
short  order.  Monseigneur  would  follow  by  slow  stages 
as  his  state  permitted,  but  would  be  present  at  the  final 
moment.  To  Count  Charles  should  be  the  honour  of 
the  immediate  command. 

The  household — such  members  of  it  as  Monseigneur 
or  Count  Charles  selected — repaired  at  once  to  Namur, 
whither  the  forces  were  to  report.  Nor  were  these  slow 
in  flocking  to  the  standard. 

Within  a  week  came  my  Lord  d'Humbercourt  and, 
fairly  treading  upon  his  heels,  my  Lords  Contay  and 
Ravestein.  From  Picardy  came  its  governor,  Philip  de 
Crevecoeur,  and  with  him  the  Marshal  of  Burgundy  and 
many  more  whose  loyalty  to  Monseigneur  was  too  well 
known  to  be  questioned.  But  greater  than  all  these  was 
the  Count  de  St.  Pol,  Constable  of  France,  and  of  his 
unswerving  allegiance  there  might  be  some  doubt,  since 
one  day  he  truckled  to  the  king  and  the  next  fawned 
upon  the  Burgundian  faction.  Even  he,  however,  dared 
not  disregard  the  summons,  and  though  naturally  he 
might  not  bring  the  king's  forces  which  were  under  his 
command,  he  mustered  a  sufficient  body  of  horse  and 
foot  among  his  own  vassals  to  make  a  goodly  showing. 
With  these  warriors  came  men-at-arms,  archers,  bombar- 
diers, and  foot-soldiers,  till  the  streets  of  the  town,  open 
enough  of  ordinary,  were  fairly  choked  by  the  armed 

4 


AS   TOLD   BY    MONSIEUR   VIGNOLLES 

hordes  pouring  through  them.  By  the  first  day  of 
August  the  muster  was  complete,  and  Count  Charles 
only  awaited  the  arrival  of  Monseigneur  before  spring- 
ing upon  his  prey. 

The  roar  of  laughter  that  greeted  the  man's  sudden 
entrance  into  the  room  died  away  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
arisen,  for,  though  he  was  regarded  as  the  wag  of  the 
company,  it  was  plain  enough  that  this  time  he  had  no 
buffoonery  in  mind. 

The  Lady  Agathe  gave  a  little  gasp  and  drew  closer 
to  the  Countess  de  Laubec,  and  the  lackeys,  who  were 
in  the  act  of  placing  lights  about  the  assembly  room, 
paused  an  instant  in  their  work.  Of  the  others,  it  was 
the  Lord  d'Humbercourt  who  first  found  words. 

"The  devil,  Monsieur  Vignolles — the  constable;  has 
aught  happened  to  him?" 

The  same  thought  occurred  to  all,  it  seemed,  for 
they  crowded  round  the  man  eagerly.  Nor  was  this 
strange,  since  Hilaire  Vignolles  was  vassal  to  the  Count 
de  St.  Pol,  and,  being  his  favourite,  ever  in  his  com- 
pany when  he  stirred  abroad.  To  see  him  as  he  now 
stood  before  them,  capless,  his  face  and  apparel  grimy 
with  dirt  and  the  sleeve  nearly  torn  from  his  tunic,  was 
enough  to  rouse  fear  for  the  constable's  safety.  More- 
over, it  was  well  enough  known  that  the  Count  de  St. 
Pol  had  others  than  friends  in  camp. 

For  a  moment  Vignolles  might  not  answer,  so  blown 
was  he  with  exertion ;  then  he  gasped : 

"  I — I  know  naught  of  the  constable,  my  lord ;  I — 
I " 

But  here  some  one  proffered  him  a  cup  of  brandy, 
and  he  paused  long  enough  to  drain  it  at  a  gulp;  then 
continued,  as  he  fell  into  a  chair : 

5 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


"  I  have,  in  truth,  been  too  busy  to  think  of  my  lord 
the  constable,  but,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  he  is  with 
Count  Charles.  I  am  not  on  service  to-day." 

There  was  a  faint  touch  of  his  wonted  jesting  in 
the  tone  he  used,  and  a  passing  flash  in  his  eye  that 
told  he  was  fast  recovering  his  spirits  at  least.  "  Busy," 
indeed,  he  seemed  to  have  been.  As  he  ended,  he 
lay  back  upon  the  arm  of  the  chair  so  that  those 
nearest  saw  the  red  stain  upon  the  material  of  his  torn 
sleeve. 

"  You  are  wounded,  Monsieur  Vignolles !  "  exclaimed 
Philip  de  Crevecoeur. 

"Ay;  grievously,  my  lord,"  replied  Vignolles; 
"  grievously,  but  not  there,"  he  added  quickly,  as  De 
Crevecoeur  would  have  made  examination  of  his  arm. 
"  There,  'tis  but  the  scratch  of  a  cat.  'Tis  my  heart 
that  has  been  painfully  hit."  And  he  pulled  down 
the  frayed  ends  of  his  sleeve  so  that  they  all  saw  it  was, 
as  he  said,  but  a  slight  wound,  from  wjhich  the  blood 
had  already  ceased  flowing. 

"  Enough  of  your  riddles,  monsieur,  and  come  to 
the  point ! "  cried  one,  the  Sieur  Giraud  d'Orson,  a  cap- 
tain of  fourscore  lances,  and  much  in  Count  Charles's 
favour.  "  Enough  men  have  I  seen  grievously  hit  at 
heart  as  you  say  to  know  you  suffer  from  no  such 
stroke.  Out  with  it,  man;  see,  even  the  ladies  hang 
upon  your  words !  " 

Monsieur  Vignolles  turned  quickly  enough,  and  in 
an  instant  was  upon  his  feet,  bowing  low  to  the  ladies, 
and  favouring  them  all  equally  with  his  smile. 

"  A  thousand  pardons  for  such  a  sight  as  I  present, 
mesdames !  "  he  said  quickly.  "  Yet  the  saints  be  praised 
that  you  are  here  to  judge  between  the  Sieur  Giraud 
and  myself !  He  claims  that  I  suffer  no  wound  at  heart ; 

6 


AS  TOLD  BY   MONSIEUR   VIGNOLLES 

I  swear  I  do.  You  shall  act  as  arbiters  between  us ;  and 
so,  for  my  side  of  it." 

"  Now,  by  Our  Lady,  do  you  listen  to  him !  "  whis- 
pered De  Contay  in  the  ear  of  the  Sieur  d'Orson.  "  If 
he  weaves  not  a  tale  of  romance  fit  to  send  the  ladies 
into  hysterics,  ne'er  may  I  think  to  know  the  man  again." 

The  Sieur  d'Orson  contented  himself  with  a  shrug 
of  the  shoulders  in  reply,  but  was  clearly  of  the  same 
opinion.  He  moved  to  the  side  of  the  Lady  Agathe  and 
said  something  in  an  undertone,  which  caused  her  fair 
head  to  go  up  and  a  smile  to  part  her  lips,  as  she  shot  a 
glance  at  Monsieur  Vignolles.  That  worthy  was,  by 
now,  oblivious  to  all  save  the  impression  he  had  made, 
and  fairly  swelled  with  self-complacency. 

"  Firstly,  you  must  know  that  alone  this  day  I  have 
been  to  Bouvignes,"  he  began  grandly,  and  paused  as 
though  challenging  contradiction. 

He  met  with  none  direct,  however ;  only  the  exchange 
of  significant  glances  among  his  hearers.  The  thing  was 
too  impossible  to  render  denial  aught  than  waste  of 
breath,  since  marauding  and  cut-throat  bands  of  Com- 
panions were  as  thick  as  hived  bees  in  all  the  woods 
about  Bouvignes. 

"  You  are  a  bold  man,  Monsieur  Vignolles,"  said  De 
Contay  softly ;  "  yet,  methinks,  excitement  has  played 
tricks  with  your  memory.  The  state  of  your  attire 
would  go  to  show  that  you  were  more  successful  in 
trying  than  in  actually  entering  Bouvignes." 

"  Yet,  I  swear  to  you,  I  did  enter  the  town,  my  Lord 
de  Contay.  'Twas  on  my  return  I  met  with  misadven- 
ture," answered  Monsieur  Vignolles. 

"  And  what  devil  possessed  you  to  tempt  so  speedy 
an  end,  monsieur  ?  "  asked  the  Sieur  d'Orson.  "  The 
way  into  Bouvignes  will  be  free  enough  once  we  have 

7 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


cleared  these  freebooters  from  the  hills.  Your  business 
must  have  been  of  the  utmost  moment  that  you  must 
risk  the  essay  now." 

"  I  may  not  speak  of  what  took  me  there,"  replied 
Monsieur  Vignolles,  even  more  grandly.  '  The — the 
matter— er — er — a  lady's  name  is  concerned,  since  you 
press  me." 

Inasmuch  as  none  had  so  pressed  him,  a  ripple  of 
laughter  ran  round  the  company  at  his  apparent  forcing 
of  an  imaginary  liaison  upon  them. 

"  Then  not  a  word  more  of  your  adventure  in  the 
town,  Monsieur  Vignolles,"  cried  the  Lord  d'Humber- 
court.  "  Certainly,  we  would  not  willingly  drag  any 
lady's  name  into  the  discourse — at  all  events,  not  before 
others,"  he  added,  with  a  quick  glance  of  amusement  at 
the  Lady  Agathe  and  the  countess. 

"  Then  I  may  consider  my  back  turned  on  Bouvignes 
since  the  hour  of  five  this  afternoon  ?  "  asked  Vignolles 
quickly. 

"  I  think  you  may,"  answered  the  Lord  d'Humber- 
court,  and  added  sotto  voce,  "  since  it  probably  was 
turned  in  that  direction  the  entire  day." 

"  I  thank  you,  my  lord.  Then,  as  I  say,  I  galloped 
forth  from  Bouvignes  at  five,  and,  deeming  the  same 
route  safe  which  had  taken  me  thither,  set  spur  along 
it  boldly  enough.  Yet,  I  had  gone  little  over,  a  half- 
league  when,  of  a  sudden,  an  arrow  flew  from  the  under- 
brush on  ray  right — you  see  a  part  of  its  course  here 
on  my  arm — the  next  instant  my  mount  had  swerved 
and  I  found  myself  torn  from  the  saddle  and  thrown 
heavily  to  earth." 

"  Yet,  I'll  be  sworn,  you  made  good  account  of  your- 
self, monsieur,"  said  De  Contay,  with  a  scarce  perceptible 
droop  of  one  eyelid  toward  the  others. 

8 


AS   TOLD   BY   MONSIEUR   VIGNOLLES 

"  Ah,  surely,  surely  you  did,  Monsieur  Vignolles !  " 
breathed  the  Lady  Agathe  with  such  intense  earnestness 
that  one  must  have  believed  her  sincere. 

Monsieur  Vignolles  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then,  as 
though  casting  aside  a  much-cherished  wish,  shook  his 
head  in  all  sadness. 

"  Alas,  my  lady,  would  that  I  might  deserve  your 
kind  words!  All  that  a  worm  may  do  when  trodden 
'neath  a  boot,  that  I  did,  and  squirmed  most  valiantly 
till  they  wrenched  my  sword  free  from  its  sheath  and 
bound  me  hard  and  fast.  There  were  five  of  them,  and 
lusty  knaves,  forsooth." 

General  disappointment  shone  on  the  faces  of  his  lis- 
teners. Was  it  possible  the  man  was  for  once  speaking 
seriously  ? 

"  And  then  ? "  queried  the  Sieur  d'Orson,  for  the 
first  time  seeming  to  take  an  interest  in  the  tale. 

"  And  then  one  of  the  rogues  shouldered  me  as  he 
might  have  borne  a  deer's  carcass  and  made  off  up  the 
hills  with  me.  Yet  I  might  not  see  the  direction  he  took, 
for  they  had  thrown  a  filthy  sack  over  my  head  ere  taking 
their  weight  from  me." 

"  Yet  you  are  sure  you  went  up  into  the  hills  ?  "  said 
De  Crevecoeur. 

"  Ay,  my  lord ;  by  the  man's  stumbling  and  by  an- 
other's pushing  him  along  from  behind,"  answered  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles.  "  Nor  was  it  any  great  distance  I  was 
so  carried,  else  I  must  have  burst  something  in  my  head, 
which  hung  downward  over  the  knave's  back.  At 
length,  with  a  grunt,  he  threw  me  on  to  the  ground  and 
drew  the  sack  from  my  head." 

"  Thereby  exposing  nothing,"  muttered  De  Contay  to 
d'Humbercourt. 

"  At  first,  as  you  say,  my  lord,  I  saw  naught,"  re- 
9 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


plied  Vignolles,  having  caught  a  part  of  De  Contay's 
speech — "  naught  save  the  villainous  face  that  was  bent 
over  me  for  a  moment  as  my  bonds  were  severed." 

"Ah!  Then  with  a  bound  you  were  at  his  throat, 
eh  ?  "  cried  De  Crevecoeur. 

"  On  the  contrary,  my  lord,  my  attention  was  diverted 
instantly  by  the  movements  of  two  of  the  rogues  who 
stood  over  me  with  half-drawn  bows.  There  is  a  fas- 
cination about  an  arrow-point,  viewed  from  the  ground 
in  such  fashion.  However,  in  another  moment,  they 
motioned  me  to  rise,  and  as  I  gained  my  feet,  I  saw 
'twas  no  handful  I  had  to  deal  with,  but  a  veritable 
company — full  threescore  as  ragged  rascals  as  e'er  went 
unhung.  Yet  not  a  sound  came  from  them,  whereat  I 
greatly  marvelled,  seeing  them  thus  forming  a  closed 
circle  about  me  in  this  small  open  space  in  the  forest. 
Then  the  ring  opened  at  one  side,  and  the  entire  band 
half-wheeled  that  way,  so  that  for  a  moment  I  meditated 
a  dash  through  the  nearest  of  them." 

"  Now  we  are  come  to  the  romance,"  whispered  De 
Contay. 

"  Nay,  my  lord ;  it  is  the  truth  the  man  is  telling. 
He  is  living  over  something  again,  doubt  it  not,"  an- 
swered the  Sieur  d'Orson,  and  moved  closer  to  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles,  saying  quietly : 

"  And  through  that  parting  in  the  ranks  there  came, 
Monsieur  Vignolles ?" 

"  Ay,  through  that  break  in  the  circle  strode  the 
leader  of  this  thieving  band,  and  at  the  sight  I  was 
rooted  to  the  ground,  for  what  a  figure  to  head  such  a 
mob  of  cut-throats.  In  stature  a  full  hand  beneath  me  " 
(Monsieur  Vignolles  was  short  and  sensitive  thereon), 
"  a  mass  of  hair,  black  as  the  raven's  wing,  falling  upon 
the  shoulders  from  beneath  a  cap  of  green  velvet — a 

10 


AS   TOLD   BY   MONSIEUR   VIGNOLLES 

__^ __———_—___—_____ 

spray  of  pine  twig  stuck  therein  in  place  of  a  feather — 
eyes  of  hazel  that  seemed  to  pierce  through  my  own. 
This  much  I  caught  as  she  came  toward  me." 

"She!" 

The  exclamation  was  general. 

Monsieur  Vignolles  well  knew  how  to  work  up  his 
sensation,  and,  having  attained  it,  enjoyed  it  to  the  full. 
Therefore,  he  made  some  pretence  of  arranging  his  tat- 
tered dress  before  replying. 

"  Did  I  not  say  'twas  a  woman  ?  'Twas  an  over- 
sight, then.  Ay,  'twas  a  woman,  in  truth,  or,  rather,  a 
girl,  since  I'll  be  sworn,  scarce  a  score  years  have 
weighed  upon  her." 

"  Another  lady  concerned  in  Monsieur  Vignolles's 
tale,  and,  like  the  one  at  Bouvignes,  he  probably  chooses 
to  shield  her  name  as  well,"  cried  d'Humbercourt ;  but 
there  was  small  response  to  his  jibe,  save  a  titter  from 
those  who  invariably  appreciate  everything  falling  from 
exalted  lips.  The  company  in  general  were  by  this  time 
fairly  convinced  that  the  narrative  was  genuine,  and  had 
small  patience  for  interruptions. 

"  Nay,  my  Lord  d'Humbercourt,  I  make  no  attempt 
to  conceal  the  identity  of  this  lady ;  but  pray  let  me  pro- 
ceed," answered  Vignolles.  "  As  I  have  said,  I  noted 
what  I  have  already  told  you  as  she  came  toward  me; 
also  that  her  bodice  and  kirtle  were  of  the  same  tree- 
green  with  her  cap,  and  that  her  legs  and  feet  from 
the  knees  were  wound  in  thongs  of  deerskin.  You  may 
deem  me  the  fool,  messieurs — as  indeed  some  of  you 
will — but  you  may  believe  me  in  this,  ne'er  have  I  seen 
such  a  beauteous  creature  as  this  renegade  wench.  The 
tread  of  a  deer,  as  you  draw  within  bow-shot,  and  it 
raises  its  head  instinctive  of  danger,  may  nearest  suf- 
fice to  show  her  carriage.  Straight  and  fearless,  she 
3  II 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


came  to  take  her  place  before  me,  and  for  an  instant 
stood  looking  me  in  the  eyes.  Then,  with  a  gesture  in 
which  there  was  much  of  grace,  turned  to  those  who  so 
had  brought  me  to  that  plight. 

" '  You  have  done  well,  comrades.  No  hair  of  the 
fool's  head  has  been  harmed ?  '  (I  but  repeat  the  words 
she  used.)  'His  purse,  I  see,  he  still  wears;  but  the 
contents ' 

"  '  If  there  be  any,  such  are  there  still,  Marcelle,'  an- 
swered the  one  who  had  borne  me  o'er  his  back. 

"  My  hand  had  flown  to  my  purse  at  her  words. 

" '  I  see  all  is  well.  Monsieur  still  has  his  store  to 
protect/  said  the  girl.  '  You  will  relieve  him  of  the 
burden,  Tite,'  whereat  the  knave  tore  my  purse  from 
me  and  handed  it  over  to  her  ere  I  knew  or  realised 
his  object.  Also  some  words  passed  between  them  which 
I  heard  not. 

'  We  shall  be  able  to  put  it  to  better  uses  than 
you  could  by  any  possible  chance,  monsieur/  said  the 
girl,  and  quickly  fell  to  counting  the  amount,  which 
done,  she  again  turned  upon  me. 

'  You  come  opportunely,  monsieur/  she  said ;  '  since 
for  some  days  I  have  been  on  the  watch  for  a  suitable 
messenger.  From  the  device  on  your  tunic,  I  divine 
that  you  are  vassal  to  the  Count  de  St.  Pol,  and,  con- 
sequently, of  that  army  which  the  Count  de  Charolais 
is  now  mustering  yonder  at  Namur/ 

( '  I    wear    no    false    colours/    I    answered    sourly 
enough. 

'  'Tis  as  well  that  it  is  so,  monsieur,  else  perchance, 
having  no  use  for  you  myself,  my  comrades  might  find 
one/  she  answered  quickly,  but  scarce  raising  her  voice. 
'  Yet,  since  I  have  employment  for  you,  you  need  have  no 
fear.  You  have  but  to  take  a  message  to  the  Count  de 

12 


AS   TOLD   BY   MONSIEUR   VIGNOLLES 

Charolais — a  message  which,  perchance,  may  cause  you 
some  embarrassment  in  delivering,  but  such  is  of  small 
moment  compared  to  what  you  will  gain  by  complying — 
your  life,  I  mean.' 

"  '  A  message  to  Count  Charles ! '  I  exclaimed.  '  In 
the  name  of  all  the  saints,  what  message ? ' 

" '  That  you  shall  know,  monsieur,  when  you  have 
sworn  to  deliver  it.' 

"'And  if  I  will  not?'  I  said. 

'  Then  we  shall  find  another  more  tractable,'  she 
replied,  and,  indeed,  there  was  no  mercy  in  the  look  she 
gave  me ;  also  I  noted  an  uneasy  movement  and  a  surg- 
ing toward  me  of  the  circle. 

"  My  head  dropped  under  her  gaze,  and  methought 
that,  in  truth,  the  game  lay  between  accepting  her  com- 
mission and  dancing  on  air  for  a  few  moments  under 
one  of  the  surrounding  pines. 

" '  You  are  a  fool,'  she  said  shortly,  '  for  no  one, 
save  a  fool,  would  have  attempted  the  ride  from  Namur 
to  Bouvignes  to-day.  That  you  passed  freely,  you  may 
thank  me,  for  up  to  the  very  walls  a  score  of  bows  were 
bent  upon  you  awaiting  my  word.  The  device  upon 
your  tunic  told  me,  however,  that  you  would  return. 
Yet  I  would  know  what  brought  you  hither,  monsieur. 
You  have  searched  him,  Tite  ? ' 
'  Your  orders  were ' 

" '  Then  search  him  now.'  And  at  that  the  rogue 
again  would  have  laid  hands  upon  me,  save  that  I  cried : 

"  '  Enough — enough !  I  yield  and  will  take  such 
message  as  you  have  to  give  me.  What  took  me  to 
Bouvignes  was — but  stay — if  there  be  any  among  your 
company  from  Bouvignes,  let  him  come  where  I  may 
speak  into  his  ear.' 

"  And  as  it  chanced,  there  was  one  from  that  town, 
13 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


and,  he  coming  forward  sullenly  enough,  I  did  give  him 
such  particulars  of  names  and  streets  as  convinced  him 
of  the  honesty  of  my  visit.  For  a  moment  afterward 
he  conversed  apart  with  the  girl,  Marcelle,  and  I  credit 
him  with  a  proper  account  of  me,  for  she  turned  and 
said: 

" '  Tis  well,  monsieur ;  but  though  you  shall  be 
spared  a  search,  you  shall  swear  to  carry  out  your 
compact.' 

"  And  with  that  she  did  swear  me  by  all  the  saints, 
by  St.  Hubert,  by  Our  Lady,  and  by  the  honour  of  my 
mother  to  bear  the  word  she  gave  me  straight  and  truly 
to  Count  Charles;  then  went  on: 

'  Then  listen,  Monsieur  Vignolles ' 

" '  So  even  my  name  is  known  to  you/  I  cried. 

" '  'Tis  scrawled  'neath  your  saddle-flap,  so  Tite  has 
told  me,'  she  answered  drily.  '  And  now  for  the  mes- 
sage to  the  Count  de  Charolais.  Tell  him  we  have 
heard  of  his  threats  against  the  Companions  of  the 
Green  Tent,  and  if  he  would  have  his  answer  soon,  bid 
him  have  regard  for  what  shall  pass  over  the  walls  of 
Bouvignes  this  very  night.  Such  is  the  word  I  send 
him— I,  Marcelle  the  Mad.' " 

"  '  Marcelle  the  Mad ! '  "  cried  the  company. 

"  Ay,  for  'twas  into  none  other's  hands  I  had 
fallen,"  answered  Monsieur  Vignolles ;  "  but,  by  my 
faith,  the  very  woodland  breeze  might  have  knocked  me 
over,  for  methought  this  mad  woman  some  ill-favoured 
wench  of  twoscore  or  thereabout.  There  were  other 
women  on  the  outside  of  the  circle,  any  one  of  whom 
I  would  have  picked  as  more  likely  to  be  Marcelle." 

"  Go  on  with  your  tale,  monsieur,"  said  the  Sieur 
Giraud.  "  What  answer  made  you  ?  " 

( '  If  that  be  all,  I  will  take  the  message,'  I  said, 
14 


AS   TOLD  BY    MONSIEUR   VIGNOLLES 

'  though  'tis  naught  but  life  could  tempt  me  thereto,  for 
methinks  you  speak  of  some  devil's  work  that  will  scarce 
add  to  Count  Charles's  pleasure.' 

'  You  presume  on  the  need  I  have  of  you  to  take 
such  tone,  monsieur/  she  said.  '  Have  a  care  lest  you 
go  too  far ! ' 

"  At  the  look  in  her  eyes  I  held  my  tongue. 

'  There  is  yet  one  other  matter,'  continued  the  girl, 
drawing  a  folded  parchment  from  her  bosom.  '  This 
letter  was  taken  from  one  of  Count  Charles's  men  a  few 
days  ago  by  my  orders.  Even  then  I  was  seeking  the 
messenger  I  have  found  in  you,  Monsieur  Vignolles; 
but  less  fortunate  than  you,  he  was  slain  in  the  encoun- 
ter that  ensued  on  his  seizure.  I  pray  you  give  this 
letter  to  the  one  to  whom  it  is  addressed.  My  compli- 
ments also  to  Count  Charles  and  the  assurance  that  I 
do  not  meddle  with  amours  at  his  court,  whatever  else 
he  may  hold  against  me.' 

"  I  took  the  letter  she  proffered  me,  and,  in  truth, 
the  writing  gave  me  a  start,  since  I  knew  it  as  well  as 
my  own. 

'  You  present  your  compliments,'  I  said,  and 
laughed.  '  The  compliments  of  the  mad  woman  of  the 
Ardennes  to  the  Count  de  Charolais.  He  will  be  flat- 
tered, I'll  be  sworn.' 

"  For  a  moment  her  dark  brows  grew  into  a  straight 
line,  and  the  mutter  from  the  band  grew  loud  in  my  ears. 
Then  she  laughed ;  but  the  laugh  was  harsh  as  she  waved 
them  back. 

' '  His  horse ! '  she  cried,  and  one  of  the  band  brought 
the  beast  to  where  I  stood  quickly  enough,  having  kept 
it  behind  the  screen  of  trees  directly  on  my  right.  Then 
she  went  on: 

1 '  Great  as  is  Count  Charles  at  Namur,  you  forget, 
15 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


monsieur,  that  in  these  hills  I  am  even  greater  for  the 
moment.  But,  fool  though  you  are,  you  shall  go.  Bid 
Count  Charles  remember  well  who  sends  him  this  word. 
Comrades,  that  this  dolt  may  not  forget  ere  he  reaches 
Namur — my  name ! ' 

"  With  one  accord  they  tore  off  their  caps  and 
shouted,  '  Marcelle  the  Mad ! ' 

" '  And  a  round  of  cheers  for  the  Companions  of  the 
Green  Tent ! '  she  added,  smiling  upon  them.  And  the 
very  leaves  were  set  rocking  by  the  uproar  that  followed. 
In  truth,  the  love  of  the  motley  crew  for  this  girl  was 
plain  enough. 

"And  then,  on  a  sign  from  her,  they  returned  my 
sword.  I  was  again  blinded  by  the  sack,  and  climbed 
into  the  saddle.  My  two  arms  were  held  by  a  rogue  on 
either  side,  while  a  third  led  my  horse  down,  down  wind- 
ingly  till  I  was  turned  into  a  path  and  loose  at  the  same 
moment.  When  I  had  freed  my  eyes  I  was  alone,  and — 
here  I  am." 

He  paused  and  wiped  the  moisture  from  his  brow; 
then  drew  a  crumpled  parchment  from  his  jerkin  and 
spread  it  out. 

The  Sieur  d'Orson  gave  a  start  and  seemed  about 
to  snatch  it  from  him;  then,  with  a  baffled  look,  stood 
shifting  from  one  foot  to  the  other. 

Monsieur  Vignolles  continued. 

"  My  first  duty  is  to  Count  Charles,  yet,  since  we 
are  all  so  met  here,  this  letter  may  take  precedence." 

He  turned  slowly  and  extended  his  hand  to  the  Lady 
Agathe. 

"  It  bears  your  name,  my  lady,"  he  said.  "  Let  me 
deliver  it,  then,  to  you,  as  I  was  sworn." 

"  Stay,  monsieur !  " 

As  on  one  pivot,  the  whole  company  turned,  and 
16 


AS  TOLD  BY   MONSIEUR  VIGNOLLES 

there  in  the  open  doorway  stood  Count  Charles  himself 
and  behind  him  the  Constable  of  France.  In  an  in- 
stant all  had  fallen  back,  as  the  count  strode  rapidly 
forward. 

"  Your  tale  has  been  of  much  import,  Monsieur  Vig- 
nolles,"  he  snapped.  "  At  least  the  latter  half  which  I 
caught,  and  it  makes  me  curious  to  see  that  letter." 

So  saying,  he  took  it  from  Monsieur  Vignolles'  trem- 
bling hand,  as  the  latter  bowed  confusedly. 

"  As  for  the  verbal  message,  monsieur,  you  need  not 
repeat  it,"  he  said  shortly,  as  he  broke  the  seal  of  the 
parchment.  "  You  have  truly  had  quite  an  adventure ; 
I  shall  not  forget  the  name — Marcelle  the  Mad.  Ha, 
we  shall  see;  we  shall  see  and  note  as  well  what  does 
pass  over  the  walls  of  Bouvignes  this  night." 

With  that  he  set  himself  to  read,  and,  as  he  read,  his 
face  darkened  angrily.  When  ended,  he  crushed  the 
letter  in  his  great  fist. 

"The  Sieur  d'Orson!"  he  cried. 

He,  so  called,  stepped  forward. 

"  So  'tis  thus  you  disobey  me,  sir !  What  I  have 
ordered  in  Bruges  seems,  then,  of  no  avail.  When  was 
this  letter  written  ?  " 

"  A  week  ago,  my  lord  count,"  replied  the  Sieur 
d'Orson. 

"  When  my  Lady  Agathe  was  en  route  hither,  then  ? 
And  you  dared  address  yourself  to  her  after  what  I  had 
commanded !  " 

The  count's  rage  was  fearful  to  behold,  and  the  Lady 
Agathe  shrunk  before  the  look  he  threw  her. 

"  I  have  no  excuse,  my  lord,  unless  an  honest  attach- 
ment be  such,"  said  the  Sieur  d'Orson  quietly ;  "  yet, 
before  the  court,  my  lady's  name " 

"  Before  the  court,  forsooth !  "  cried  the  count.  "  And 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


have  I  not  forbid  enough  in  private  your  raising  your 
eyes  to  my  Lady  Agathe?  Let  us,  then,  make  it  as  pub- 
lic as  possible.  Know,  once  for  all,  that  the  hand  of  my 
Lady  Agathe  is  for  another  than  one  I  have  raised  from 
the  ranks.  Have  I  not,  then,  done  enough  to  reward 
you,  sir,  for  the  service  you  did  me  at  Montlhery  ?  " 

"  Speak  not  of  that,  my  lord  count,"  said  d'Orson 
earnestly.  He  had  saved  the  count's  life  in  that  battle. 

"  Nor  will  I  again  do  so,  Sieur  Giraud  d'Orson ! " 
roared  the  count.  "  Moreover,  know  once  more  and  for 
all  time,  my  will  is  to  be  obeyed.  The  Lady  Agathe 
weds  on  her  return  to  Bruges.  The  constable  and  I  have 
so  arranged  it." 

"  On  my  return  to  Bruges ! "  gasped  the  Lady 
Agathe. 

"  I  have  said  it.    And  now  let  the  ladies  retire." 

He  waved  his  hand  imperiously,  and,  thoroughly 
cowed  by  his  manner,  the  ladies  withdrew  with  such 
trembling  ceremony  as  they  might  muster. 

"  As  for  you,  Sieur  Giraud,  look  not  above  your  posi- 
tion, which  is  good  enough,  considering  what  you  sprang 
from,"  he  added  harshly,  then  turned  to  Monsieur  Vig- 
nolles : 

"  Curiously  enough,  monsieur,  I  may  not  vent  my 
wrath  upon  you,  since  the  constable  and  I  have  just 
made  arrangements  for  your  happiness,  as  well  as  that 
of  the  Lady  Agathe,  and  I  would  not  ring  a  discordant 
note." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  made  a  step  forward. 

"  You  mean,  my  lord " 

"  I  mean  that,  on  my  return  to  Bruges,  a  marriage 
will  take  place  between  the  Lady  Agathe  de  Laval  of 
Dauphine,  my  ward,  and  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Nan- 
teuil,  now  Monsieur  Vignolles — a  fitting  union  of  rank 

18 


AS   TOLD   BY   MONSIEUR   VIGNOLLES 

and  fortune.  My  lord  the  constable  is  your  good  friend, 
Monsieur  Vignolles." 

And  noting  the  smug  smile  of  satisfaction  upon  the 
constable's  face,  there  were  many  present  who  saw 
through  his  aim,  for  the  Lady  Agathe  of  Dauphine 
would  be  a  power  in  his  hands  through  her  estates  and 
household. 

"  Yet,  my  lord,  I  may  not — I  am  not,  as  you  say — " 
began  Monsieur  Vignolles  in  bewilderment. 

"  Count  de  Nanteuil,  you  would  say  ? "  replied  Count 
Charles.  "  No,  but  my  lord  the  constable  will  attend 
to  that  once  We  have  done  with  these  Liegeoise  fools. 
And  now,  my  lords  and  messieurs,  to  see  what  passes 
over  the  walls  of  Bouvignes  this  night.  Sieur  Giraud, 
do  you  take  a  few  lances  and  scour  the  country,  that 
we  may  know  soon,  and  I  promise  you  such  advance- 
ment as  will  atone  for  your  disappointment  if  you  bring 
me,  living  or  dead,  the  body  of  this  Marcelle  the  Mad." 


CHAPTER   II 

WHAT   THE    CONSTABLE   HEARD 

IN  the  growing  dawn  the  river  mist  hung  heavy  over 
the  sleeping  town  as  the  Sieur  Giraud  led  his  men 
toward  the  gate.  The  pace  he  made  was  but  a 
slow  one,  and  his  head  was  bent  forward  over 
his  pommel  so  that  great  drops  of  moisture  from  his 
visor  dripped  occasionally  upon  the  velvet  covering  of 
his  brigantine.  With  the  score  following  him,  he  had 
been  in  the  saddle  since  Count  Charles  had  ordered  him 
forth  the  night  before,  and  one  might  have  expected  a 
faster  pace  now  that  relief  was  in  sight  and  the  night's 
work  at  an  end. 

By  the  Sieur  Giraud's  side  rode  another  shorter  and 
altogether  smaller  figure,  and  this  one,  too,  kept  taut 
rein  on  the  mount  he  bestrode.  He,  as  well,  disdained 
not  a  close-fitting  coat  of  mail.  Where  any  tree  might 
hide  a  lurking  shadow  with  drawn  bow,  such  was  only 
the  part  of  discretion,  and  well  these  men  knew  this  Ar- 
dennes Forest,  whence  they  were  returning.  At  length 
he  spoke,  this  smaller  of  the  two,  after  raising  his  head 
and  darting  a  searching  look  at  his  companion. 

"  Last  night  I  believed  my  own  tale  had  spelled  my 
ruin,  despite  anything  the  constable  might  do,  Sieur 
Giraud ;  yet  methinks  what  you  have  for  Count  Charles's 
ear — well,  the  saints  are  kind  in  sending  it  should  be 
you  who  bears  him  such  report." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  raised  not  his  gaze  at  the  words, 
and  seemed  so  lost  in  thought  that  Monsieur  Vignolles 

20 


WHAT   THE   CONSTABLE   HEARD 

— for  it  was  none  other — shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
again  settled  down  in  the  saddle.  Even  as  he  did  so, 
however,  the  Sieur  Giraud  spoke  in  reply. 

"  You  are  gifted,  Monsieur  Vignolles,  in  seeing  aught 
of  the  saints'  favour  in  my  selection." 

"  Gifted  forsooth,  Sieur  Giraud ;  'tis  but  common 
sense.  Did  another  carry  such  news  to  Count  Charles, 
even  though  'tis  no  fault  of  the  messenger,  picture  the 
result.  You  know  the  man  ne'er  pauses  to  think  once 
his  wrath  is  roused.  Since  the  thing  now  has  to  be  done, 
I  say  again,  'tis  well  it  is  his  favourite  on  whom  the  duty 
falls." 

This  time  the  Sieur  Giraud's  head  rose  quickly. 

"  Bah !  Speak  not  of  favourites,  monsieur.  Have 
you  so  soon  forgot  Count  Charles's  tirade  against  me  ?  " 

"  The  devil !  No,  that  I  have  not,  since  that  matter 
also  concerns  me,  yet  I'll  be  sworn  'twas  but  a  passing 
outburst  brought  on  by  the  overhearing  of  my  narrative. 
The  Count  de  Charolais  forgets  not  such  service  as  you 
have  rendered  him,  Sieur  Giraud." 

"  Nor  has  he  forgotten  it,  as,  indeed,  he  threw  in 
my  face.  From  plain  man-at-arms  I  am  become  the 
Sieur  Giraud  d'Orson,  with  eighty  lances  for  command. 
No,  Monsieur  Vignolles;  my  lord  reckons  the  score 
evened  between  us." 

"  Yet  they  tell  me  that  at  Montlhery  you  beat  off  a 
body  of  the  king's  foot  who  had  laid  hands  on  Count 
Charles  and  wellnigh  dragged  him  to  earth." 

'  'Twas  small  enough  service,  monsieur,"  replied  the 
Sieur  Giraud,  as  if  the  memory  of  it  was  distasteful; 
"  and  my  lord  himself  would  have  accounted  for  them, 
thrust  through  the  neck  though  he  was.  That  Jean 
Cadet  and  myself  came  up  at  the  moment  was  but  hast- 
ening the  affair." 

21 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


Monsieur  Vignolles  laughed   shortly. 

"  There  was  no  doubt  among  those  present  that  the 
affair  was  so  hastened,  Sieur  Giraud." 

"  Even  so,  I  tell  you  the  debt  has  been  paid  in  full 
to  my  lord's  way  of  thinking,  and,  after  last  night,  I 
would  that  some  other  brought  him  this  report.  "I  would 
as  well  that  you,  Monsieur  Vignolles,  had  ne'er  let  the 
swish  of  a  kirtle  lead  you  to  Bouvignes  yesterday.  From 
that  folly  has  come  this  present  plight,"  said  the  Sieur 
Giraud. 

"  Ay,  therein  lies  the  plight  of  both  of  us,  Sieur 
Giraud." 

The  latter  turned  in  the  saddle  and  looked  curiously 
at  the  other  before  replying. 

"  Your  pardon ;  but  I  see  not  in  what  your  plight 
consists.  It  occurs  to  me  that,  thanks  to  my  lord  the 
constable,  your  position  leaves  little  to  be  desired,  Mon- 
sieur le  Comte  de  Nanteuil — that  is  to  be." 

The  words  were  uttered  half -mockingly,  half-bitterly, 
but  Monsieur  Vignolles  seemed  not  to  heed  that. 

"  Think  not  I  object  to  the  advancement,  Sieur 
Giraud,  since  my  lord  the  constable  still  has  enough  in- 
fluence with  the  king  to  procure  it  for  me.  Methinks 
the  rank  would  not  sit  ill  upon  me,"  he  said,  and  for  a 
moment  straightened  in  the  saddle  with  so  much  of  lofti- 
ness that  his  companion  smiled.  "  No,  'tis  not  that,  but 
the  other  arrangement  that  weighs  heavy  upon  me." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  brought  his  horse  to  almost  a  full 
stop. 

"  You  mean  the  Lady  Agathe,  monsieur  ?  "  he  said, 
in  a  strained  voice. 

"  Whom  else  ?  "  replied  Monsieur  Vignolles,  his  own 
tone  lowering  lest  the  men  behind  should  catch  his 
words.  "  With  all  thanks  to  my  lord,  the  Count  de  St. 

22 


WHAT  THE   CONSTABLE   HEARD 

Pol,  I  would  that  he  had  left  out  that  clause  in  making 
his  kind  dispositions  for  me." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  wondered  if  the  constable's  efforts 
had  been  so  disinterested  as  Monsieur  Vignolles  believed. 
With  the  wealth  of  the  Lady  Agathe  transferred  to  his 
own  vassal,  how  strengthened  would  be  his  hand !  More- 
over, it  was  generally  believed  that  the  constable's 
exchequer  was  at  a  low  ebb.  This  thought,  however, 
was  but  fleeting.  What  was  incomprehensible  to  the 
Sieur  Giraud  was  that  this  man  could  repel,  and  repel 
so  lightly,  such  a  match  as  had  been  arranged.  At 
length  he  found  voice. 

"And  yet,  Monsieur  Vignolles,  you  are  not  blind  to 
the  allurements  of  the  sex;  for  instance,  the  lady  of 
Bouvignes,  whose  name  you  so  nobly  shielded " 

"  I  deny  it  not,"  replied  Monsieur  Vignolles  quickly, 
and  ignoring  the  reference.  "  By  my  faith,  what  man 
at  five-and-a-score  years  is  so  blind.  There  is  such 
charm  about  the  whole  sex  that  I  should  miss  too  much 
were  I  shackled  to  any  one." 

"  Yet  the  Lady  Agathe  is  very  beautiful,"  mused 
the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  Granted ;  so  beautiful  that  to  profane  such  loveli- 
ness by  overindulgence  were  sacrilege  itself,"  came  the 
ready  reply. 

"  She  is  accomplished  beyond  most  women,  and  of 
gentle  birth." 

"  Which  but  serves  to  render  her  proud  and  of  a 
haughtiness  that  pleases  me  but  little.  Saints!  Did 
you  note  her  look  at  me  when  Count  Charles  made 
known  the  arrangement,  Sieur  Giraud?  'Twas  the  look 
one  bestows  on  a  dog." 

"  Since  beauty  nor  birth  makes  no  appeal  to  you, 
monsieur,  perchance  riches  will.  The  Lady  Agathe  had 

23 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


from  her  father  one  of  the  greatest  fiefs  in  all  Dauphine," 
said  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  Ah,  Sieur  Giraud,  that  is  another  matter — riches. 
You  are  right.  I  am  not  disposed  to  speak  ill  of  them 
— I,  who  am  dependent  upon  what  the  constable  may 
throw  me  from  his  store,"  answered  Monsieur  Vignolles. 
"  Ay,  did  the  Lady  Agathe  truly  wish  to  buy  me  out- 
right, perchance  I  might  weaken;  but  I'll  be  sworn  that 
were  I  in  a  booth  at  the  market  marked  one  denier,  she'd 
laugh  at  the  price.  Methinks  she  might  give  that  sum 
for  you,  Sieur  Giraud." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  Monsieur  Vignolles,"  replied 
the  latter. 

'  Tis  plain  enough  you  have  won  favour  in  her 
eyes,"  continued  Monsieur  Vignolles ;  "  and  from  what 
Count  Charles  said,  you  have  paid  her  some  attention." 

"  So  much  that  now  I  am  even  forbid  speech  with 
her,  as  you  know,"  was  the  grim  reply. 

For  a  moment  they  rode  on  in  silence,  then  Monsieur 
Vignolles  turned  and  looked  earnestly  in  the  other's  face. 

"  Does  it,  then,  matter  so  much,  Sieur  Giraud  ?  "  he 
asked  quietly. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  raised  his  clenched  fist,  but  as 
quickly  lowered  it. 

"  Matter  so  much  ?     Why,  man,  it's " 

"  Your  pardon,  Sieur  Giraud.  I  am  not  of  the  court, 
and  knew  not  how  far  the  affair  had  progressed.  You 
will  cherish  no  ill-will  toward  me  in  the  matter?  As 
I  have  said,  any  alliance  is  distasteful  to  me,  and  I  would 
keep  my  affections  unfettered." 

By  now  the  cavalcade  had  come  to  the  gate,  and 
while  the  barrier  was  being  let  down,  the  Sieur  Giraud 
seemed  to  meditate  on  the  other's  words;  then  said 
suddenly : 

24 


WHAT   THE   CONSTABLE   HEARD 

"  I  own,  monsieur,  that  I  have  taken  small  pleasure 
in  your  company  this  night;  nor,  in  truth,  do  I  under- 
stand even  now  why  you  joined  me." 

"  I  came  by  my  lord  the  constable's  orders,  Sieur 
Giraud,"  answered  Monsieur  Vignolles  in  a  low  tone. 
"  By  my  faith,  I  know  not  the  why  or  wherefore,  yet 
methinks  my  lord  doth  cherish  some  distrust  of  you." 

"  Say,  rather,  would  lay  some  trap  for  me,  monsieur," 
was  the  answer.  "  Until  the  Count  de  St.  Pol  came  to 
Bruges  a  month  ago,  my  suit  was  never  questioned  by 
Count  Charles.  Yet  I  see  not  the  reason  in  his  sending 
you  to  play  the  spy  upon  me,  now  that  all  is  settled." 

Monsieur  Vignolles  straightened  at  the  brand  so  put 
upon  him,  and  a  gleam  of  anger  flashed  in  his  dark  eyes. 

"  The  Count  de  St.  Pol  is  my  lord  and  master,  Sieur 
Giraud  d'Orson,"  he  said  coldly.  "  It  is  not  for  me  to 
question  his  affairs.  Yet  would  I  abjure  allegiance  to 
any  man  who  would  set  me  to  play  the  spy — as  you  term 
it — upon  another  of  the  same  party.  If  I  have  played 
such  part,  it  has  been  unwittingly,  and  I  will  not  take 
the  word  from  you  or  any  other.  In  an  hour's  time, 
shall  we  say,  here  at  the  gates;  the  light  will  then  be 
better  and " 

"  Monsieur  Vignolles,  you  are  hasty ;  yet,  in  truth, 
'tis  a  haste  I  much  admire ! "  broke  in  the  Sieur  Giraud, 
and  for  the  first  time  his  tone  was  warm.  "  I  accused 
you  not  of  being  the  spy,  save  unwittingly,  as  you  say ; 
and  that  much  I  do  adhere  to.  Methinks  we  are  beyond 
our  depth  in  searching  a  reason  for  your  being  sent  on 
this  errand.  You  asked  me  if  I  bore  you  any  ill-will, 
monsieur.  Believe  me,  I  do  now  esteem  you  above  play- 
ing aught  than  a  fair  game." 

Monsieur  Vignolles's  anger  had  departed  at  the 
words. 

25 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  And,  as  well,  Sieur  Giraud,  you  know  how  detest- 
able any  union  such  as  planned  would  be  for  me,"  he 
said. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  nodded. 

"  Yet  you  will  wed  the  Lady  Agathe,"  he  answered 
with  decision. 

"  I  suppose  I  shall,"  said  Monsieur  Vignolles,  and 
shook  his  head  dubiously. 

And  with  that,  the  gates  being  opened,  they  clattered 
through  them  and  separated,  the  men  going  to  stable 
the  horses,  Monsieur  Vignolles  to  seek  such  rest  as  he 
might  gain  ere  the  constable's  rising,  and  the  Sieur 
Giraud  to  deliver  his  report  to  Count  Charles  de  Charo- 
lais. 

As  he  mounted  the  steps  of  the  great  house  which 
Count  Charles  had  made  his  quarters,  the  reveille  trum- 
pets sent  their  call  through  the  streets,  and  he  paused 
for  a  moment  ere  entering  past  the  heavy-eyed  archer 
on  guard. 

From  the  doors  of  the  houses  where  they  were  bil- 
leted came  sleepy  figures  in  answer  to  the  call.  Beneath 
the  camp-wagons  lining  the  roads,  strange,  huddled  bun- 
dles suddenly  became  alive  and  yielded  each  a  man, 
whose  first  thought  on  rising  was  to  stretch  himself 
lazily,  and  whose  second  was  to  kick  some  still  sleeping 
mate  into  action.  Men  seemed  to  spring  from  the  very 
ground  and  rapidly  formed  shifting  groups  for  the  morn- 
ing's muster,  affording  a  spectacle  of  an  apparently  inex- 
tricable tangle  of  men-at-arms,  arquebusiers,  constilliers 
or  light  horse,  pages,  archers,  and  foot-soldiers. 

Yet  the  disorder  was  apparent,  not  real.  Lances 
composed  of  eight  soldiers  fell  together  by  fives  to  form 
messes;  these  messes  by  fours  joined  their  respective 
squadron  letters,  and  these  squadrons,  again  by  fours, 

26 


WHAT  THE   CONSTABLE   HEARD 

melted  each  into  its  proper  company.  It  was  the  Sieur 
Giraud's  own  company  that  so  was  mustered  before 
his  gaze,  and  he  took  some  pride  as  he  noted  the  ease 
with  which  'twas  done.  The  muster  over,  the  groups  dis- 
solved as  quickly.  Two  drunken  roisterers,  dragged 
past  by  some  men  of  the  provost-marshal's  guard,  came 
in  for  much  boisterous  comment  and  raillery  from  the 
others.  Poor  devils!  Already  they  were  fairly  sobered 
by  the  thought  of  the  score  of  lashes  which  awaited 
them,  for  Count  Charles  had  small  mercy  on  those  guilty 
of  excesses. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  turned  abruptly  from  the  moving 
scene  and  entered  the  house. 

To  reach  Count  Charles's  quarters,  he  must  needs 
traverse  a  long  corridor,  but  he  had  made  scarce  half 
the  distance  when  he  heard  his  name  called,  and  pivoted 
on  his  heel  at  the  voice. 

Coming  swiftly  toward  him  from  the  other  side  of 
the  hallway  was  the  Lady  Agathe,  and  behind  her,  at  a 
slower  pace,  the  Countess  de  Laubec. 

"  My  lady — at  this  hour ! "  was  all  he  could  find 
words  for  as  she  came  before  him. 

"  Ah,  what  matters  the  hour  ?  "  she  cried,  and  he  saw 
that  her  eyes  were  red  with  much  weeping,  and  that  she 
trembled  while  striving  to  conceal  her  agitation.  "  Sieur 
Giraud,  I — I  know  not  to  whom  else  I  may  turn  in  my 
extremity.  For  hours  I  have  been  watching  from  above 
for  your  return.  Ask  Madame  la  Comtesse  if  it  be 
not  so.  I  beg  of  you  grant  me  a  few  moments'  dis- 
course." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  shot  a  glance  up  and  down  the 

corridor.     Save  for  the  sentries,  they  were  alone;  but 

he  had  in  mind  Count  Charles's  warning,  and,  though 

'twas  by  none  of  his  doing,  knew  full  well  what  this 

3  27 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


meeting  would  mean  for  him  did  it  reach  the  count's 
knowledge.  Yet  there  was  a  note  in  the  Lady  Agathe's 
voice,  a  note  of  distress,  of  anguish,  that  held  him  to 
the  spot. 

"  My  Lady  Agathe,  willingly  would  I  not  only  grant 
but  accept  as  the  most  priceless  boon  any  discourse  you 
might  accord  me,"  he  said.  "  Yet,  I  have  my  duty  to 
my  lord,  and,  moreover,  now  do  hasten  to  him  with  a 
report  which  he  must  await  with  some  impatience." 

"  I  know,  I  know !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Nor  would 
I  be  the  one  to  jeopardize  your  position  with  my  lord. 
God  knows,  I  fought  against  this  very  coming  to  you; 
but  there  was  no  other  course  open.  Ah,  Sieur  Giraud, 
surely  your  report  may  wait  long  enough  for  you  to  hear 
me!" 

There  was  such  trouble  in  her  tone  that  he  was  put 
to  it  to  resist  the  appeal,  and  turned  his  gaze  from  hers 
as  he  made  answer: 

"  Nay,  my  Lady  Agathe ;  I  am  already  in  enough 
disfavour.  Whate'er  a  man  might  do  to  serve  you,  that 
would  I  do;  methinks  you  are  aware  of  that.  But  this 
matter,  save  it  be  one  of  life  and  death,  which  I  do  not 
credit,  cannot  take  precedence  of  my  duty  to  my  lord 
count.  Yet  I  will  brave  much  to  be  of  counsel  or  assist- 
ance to  you,  my  lady ;  and  once  I  have  seen  my  lord,  I 
am  at  your  service,  cost  what  it  may." 

The  loud  tramp  of  approaching  footsteps  came  to 
their  ears  as  he  ended,  and  the  Sieur  Giraud  started  at 
the  sound.  It  was,  of  course,  naught  but  the  relieving 
guard  coming  on  duty,  yet  the  officer  in  charge  must  not 
see  the  ladies  here  in  converse  with  him  at  this  hour. 
He  turned  hurriedly,  and  his  hand  fell  upon  the  latch 
of  the  door  behind  him.  As  he  knew,  it  was  but  an  ante- 
room used  by  day  for  those  who  waited  an  audience  of 

28 


WHAT   THE   CONSTABLE   HEARD 

Count  Charles.  He  swung  the  door  open,  and  a  look 
showed  him  that  'twas  empty. 

"  For  a  moment  till  the  guard  be  past !  "  he  cried 
sharply,  and  fairly  thrust  the  ladies  within.  As  he 
closed  the  door  softly  the  captain  of  the  guard,  one 
Chaubran,  turned  into  the  corridor  with  a  file  of  men 
at  his  heels.  He  saluted  the  Sieur  Giraud  as  he  came 
abreast. 

"  You  are  early,  Sieur  Giraud,"  he  said  cheerily,  "  or 
late,  whiche'er  it  may  be.  Have  you  brought  as  an  offer- 
ing that  witch  of  the  Ardennes  ?  " 

And  then  the  Sieur  Giraud  remembered  that  the  man 
had  been  present  in  the  assembly  room  the  night  pre- 
vious, and  thanked  his  fate  that  he  had  not  seen  the 
Lady  Agathe. 

"  No,  monsieur ;  the  witch  is  still  at  large,"  he  an- 
swered with  a  laugh.  "Yet  I  would  see  my  lord  count 
at  once." 

"  Impossible,  Sieur  Giraud,"  replied  Chaubran 
shortly.  "  He  was  engaged  with  my  lord  the  constable 
till  the  small  hours,  and  his  orders  are  peremptory  for 
quiet  this  morning.  Not  for  the  King  of  France  him- 
self would  I  rouse  him." 

"  There  you  would  err  on  the  wrong  side,"  said  the 
Sieur  Giraud,  thinking  of  the  joy  'twould  give  Count 
Charles  just  then  to  lay  hands  on  the  king. 

"  I  take  no  chances,"  replied  Chaubran.  "  In  any 
case,  since  you  have  not  the  wench,  methinks  your  affair 
may  scarce  suffer  by  delay." 

And  with  that  he  marched  on  with  his  men,  all  of 
them  treading  softly  enough  as  they  came  opposite  the 
count's  apartments. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  turned  again  to  the  door  behind 
him.  Since  he  was  so  debarred  from  Count  Charles, 

29 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


he  would  hear  what  the  Lady  Agathe  had  to  say  to  him, 
what  it  was  which  had  so  greatly  upset  her  calm.  Ne'er 
would  he  find  a  moment  with  less  chance  of  discovery 
by  the  count,  and,  besides,  his  heart  yearned  to  give  the 
Lady  Agathe  comfort,  and  was  beating  faster  than  mere 
sympathy  would  warrant.  He  pushed  the  door  open  and 
stepped  within  quickly. 

Fatal  eagerness;  unpardonable  neglect! 

Had  he  paused  for  a  last  reassuring  look,  ne'er  would 
he  have  entered,  for  he  would  have  seen  the  tall  figure 
that  had  stopped  suddenly  at  the  far  end  of  the  corridor, 
and  was  watching  his  movements  with  all  closeness.  But 
the  door  closed  as  quickly  behind  him.  The  watching 
figure  delayed  for  a  word  with  a  sentry,  whose  talk 
seemed  pleasing  from  its  reflection  in  his  face.  Then, 
on  silent  feet,  the  figure  stole  to  the  door. 

The  Lady  Agathe  might  now  tell  her  tale;  the  door 
was  but  thin,  and  none  boasted  keener  hearing  than 
Louis  de  Luxembourg,  Constable  of  France. 

Meanwhile  the  Sieur  Giraud  had  stepped  quickly  to 
where  the  Lady  Agathe  and  the  Countess  de  Laubec 
sat  huddled  together  upon  the  great  window-seat.  The 
former  rose  with  a  sharp  cry,  but  the  Sieur  Giraud  spoke 
quickly  before  some  half-formed  words  had  left  her  lips. 

"  My  lady,  it  seems  that  I  may  not  have  audience 
of  my  lord  count  at  once.  I  pray  you,  therefore,  inform 
me  wherein  I  may  be  of  service  to  you,  yet  as  briefly 
as  may  be,  since  at  any  moment  I — we  may  be  inter- 
rupted." 

A  pale  ray  of  the  early  sun  fell  athwart  the  Lady 
Agathe's  face,  accentuating  the  deep  shadows  beneath 
her  blue  eyes  and  the  look  of  worry  and  fatigue  that 
she  wore.  Yet  the  lines  that  were  so  apparent  on  the 
features  of  the  countess  after  her  night's  vigil  were  ab- 

30 


WHAT   THE   CONSTABLE   HEARD 

sent  from  the  Lady  Agathe's.  Youth — such  youth  as 
hers — has  its  privileges,  and  the  Sieur  Giraud  swore  to 
himself  that  ne'er  had  he  seen  her  so  beautiful.  Save 
for  the  presence  of  the  older  woman,  he  would  have 
taken  her  hand  in  his  own  instinctively. 

"  Ah,  Sieur  Giraud,  something  kept  telling  me  I 
might  count  on  your  fidelity,"  she  said,  and  there  was 
a  real  gladness  in  her  voice.  "  Yes,  yes ;  I  shall  be  as 
brief  as  I  may.  Listen !  Last  night,  after  you  had  gone 
— an  hour  or  more  it  must  have  been — a  page  brought 
me  word  to  attend  immediately  upon  my  lord  count. 
We  had  none  of  us  retired  after  such  excitement  as  we 
had  endured,  and  in  fear  and  trembling  I  hastened 
to  obey  the  summons.  Judge  of  my  surprise  when, 
on  being  ushered  into  my  lord's  presence,  I  found 
that  the  Count  de  St.  Pol  was  also  closeted  with 
him." 

"  The  constable !  "  exclaimed  her  listener. 

"  None  other,  and  evidently  the  cause  of  my  sum- 
mons, if  I  might  know  from  his  satisfied  expression. 
His  look  gave  me  a  courage  I  had  not  felt  before,  and 
I  turned  with  something  of  spirit  to  meet  my  lord's 
harsh  words;  for  such  I  fully  expected,  after  his  earlier 
outburst.  Yet  they  were  not  forthcoming,  and  he  spoke 
to  me  as  gently  as  though  I  had  been  his  own  child. 
Oh,  ask  me  not  to  repeat  all  that  he  said !  Yet  briefly, 
'twas  how  he  and  the  constable  had  had  further  discourse 
regarding  my  disposal.  Disposal;  ay,  that's  what  he 
called  it!  That  the  constable  had  persuaded  him  that 
'twere  better  the  ladies  of  the  court  left  Namur.  The 
army  would  move  ere  long,  and  it  would  be  safer  in 
Bruges." 

"  Bruges !  So  you  are  to  return  to  Bruges !  "  ex- 
claimed the  Sieur  Giraud. 

31 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  In  two  days'  time  after  the  arrival  of  Monseigneur 
the  Duke,  so  it  has  been  arranged,"  she  answered.  "  And 
once  there,  what  escape  will  there  be  for  me  from  this 
marriage.  Ah!  Can  you  not  see,  Sieur  Giraud?  It  is 
no  concern  for  our  safety,  but  merely  the  Count  de  St. 
Pol's  desire  to— to " 

"  To  eliminate  me  from  the  game  he  plays,"  cut  in 
the  Sieur  Giraud.  "  Ay,  my  lady,  that  is  plain  enough ; 
yet  methinks  my  lord's  commands  to  me  should  have 
guaranteed  that." 

"And  so  I  did  testify;  so  I  did  say.  Ah,  what  did 
I  not  speak  to  those  two!  Did  I  not  swear  that  rather 
would  I  lie  dead  than  be  wedded  to  this  man,  whether  he 
were  plain  Monsieur  Vignolles  or  Monsieur  le  Comte  de 
Nanteuil,  which  my  lord  constable  would  have  him 
created.  Ay,  and  on  my  knees  did  I  beg  Count  Charles 
to  release  me  from  a  betrothal  so  hateful." 

"  Monsieur  Vignolles  has  much  to  commend  him, 
my  lady.  I  have  made  discovery  of  that,"  said  the 
Sieur  Giraud,  a  grim  smile  fleeting  over  his  features 
for  a  moment  at  the  thought  of  how  mutually  repellent 
this  arrangement  was. 

The  Lady  Agathe  looked  at  him  a  moment  in  sur- 
prise, then  continued: 

"  I  ne'er  have  heard  you  so  speak  of  him  before, 
Sieur  Giraud.  I  have  known  the  man  but  a  fortnight — 
have,  indeed,  scarce  addressed  a  word  to  him;  and  yet 
they  would  force  me  to  such  a  marriage.  I  will  have 
none  of  it;  that  I  swear  to  you." 

"  My  lord  refused  you  the  release  you  craved  ? " 
asked  the  Sieur  Giraud  gently. 

"  With  all  decision,  since  my  lord  the  constable  turns 
him  to  his  own  will  at  pleasure.  Yet  I  denied  that  there 
— there  was  aught  between  us — between  you  and  me, 

32 


WHAT  THE   CONSTABLE   HEARD 

Sieur  Giraud.  It  is  not  seemly  that  I  so  should  tell  you 
this,  but  neither  is  it  a  time  to  throw  too  great  a  strain 
on  modesty.  For  answer  they  both  laughed,  but  the  con- 
stable the  loudest,  and  my  lord  count  handed  me  the 
letter  which  the  mad  woman  of  the  hills  took  from  your 
messenger." 

"  You  read  it,  my  lady !  "  exclaimed  the  Sieur  Giraud, 
uneasy  despite  his  joy  at  the  thought. 

The  Lady  Agathe's  head  fell  for  a  moment,  and  a 
wave  of  colour  swept  aside  the  pallor  of  her  cheek. 

"  I  read  it,  Sieur  Giraud — read  it  while  they  watched 
me  with  much  complacency.  You — you  were  mad  to 
write  such  things,"  she  answered  brokenly. 

"  Ay,  my  lady,  I  was  mad.  Mad  as  I  always  have 
been  since  first  you  came  to  court;  mad  as  I  am  now 
that  you  stand  here  before  me " 

She  checked  him  sharply. 

"  I  may  not — not  listen — now,"  she  said.  "  Your 
letter  breathed  a  loyalty,  Sieur  Giraud,  that  I  would 
test  to  the  utmost." 

Her  manner  had  changed,  and  she  now  spoke  with 
all  the  positiveness  of  a  woman. 

"  I  will  not  marry  this  Monsieur  Vignolles ;  I  will 
not  be  dragged  to  Bruges  at  the  behest  of  the  Count 
.de  St.  Pol.  Am  I,  then,  a  child  to  be  driven  against 
my  will?  Ha!  They  should  soon  know,  were  my  dear 
father  alive!  None  stood  in  greater  favour  with  Count 
Charles  than  he." 

"  Yet  my  lord  count  would  force  this  match  upon 
you,  my  Lady  Agathe,"  said  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  Because  'tis  the  constable's  will  o'erriding  his  own," 
she  answered  in  all  anger.  "  Yet  shall  it  not  avail  them, 
for  this  day  I  return  to  Dauphine.  And  you  shall  aid 
me,  Sieur  Giraud." 

33 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


He  started  and  looked  at  her  to  see  if  she,  in  truth, 
spoke  seriously.  Her  expression  left  him  in  no  doubt. 

"  Dauphine,  Dauphine,  my  lady !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Ay,  Dauphine,  where  at  least  I  shall  be  at  home 
and  mistress  of  myself,  Sieur  Giraud,"  she  replied. 
"  Would  that  I  had  never  dreamed  of  the  splendours 
of  this  court  and  been  content  with  what  I  had.  But 
that  is  now  ended.  To-day  I  again  become  free,  if  you 
will  help  me." 

"  Much  would  I  do  for  you,  my  lady,  but " 

"  There  were  no  '  buts '  in  the  letter  I  read,  Sieur 
Giraud,"  she  said,  and  for  a  moment  her  eyes  met  his. 

"  Yet  were  the  thing  possible,  my  lady — "  he  said 
hesitatingly.  "  But  no,  'tis  madness  to  dream  of  it,  to 
escape  unnoticed  from  such  an  armed  town  as  this  one." 
'  'Tis  the  very  fact  that  it  is  an  armed  town  that 
renders  the  task  the  easier,"  she  said.  "  To-day — this 
morning,  at  the  hour  of  ten,  my  lord  reviews  the  army 
on  the  plain  by  the  river;  that  you  know.  The  town 
will  therefore  be  stripped  of  soldiers." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  nodded,  and  she  went  on  rapidly: 

"  Count  Charles,  the  constable,  and  every  officer  and 
man  available  will  be  in  the  field." 

"  Including  myself,  my  lady,"  he  said  in  a  puzzled 
tone. 

"  Wherein  will  lie  your  freedom  from  suspicion, 
Sieur  Giraud.  Throughout  this  long  night  have  I  con- 
jured up  this  plan,  and,  believe  me,  'twill  succeed,"  she 
made  answer.  "  'Tis  not  much  I  have  to  ask  of  you — 
not  the  half  your  letter  would  warrant,  yet  am  I  lost 
without  your  support.  Five  horses  must  I  have  for  my- 
self and  those  who  go  with  me.  By  the  half  hour  before 
ten  these  must  be  ready,  saddled,  and  awaiting  one  whom 
I  shall  send  for  them." 

34 


WHAT   THE   CONSTABLE   HEARD 

Light  was  beginning  to  dawn  on  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  And  you  would  have  me  procure  these  mounts, 
my  Lady  Agathe  ?  "  he  said  slowly. 

"  No  other  course  remains  me  but  to  ask  it  of  you," 
she  answered.  "  That  I  am  now  watched  I  know  only 
too  well.  My  own  horses  are  stabled  with  those  of  my 
lord,  and  I  dare  not  call  for  them  without  his  knowledge. 
Ah,  Sieur  Giraud,  what  is  it  I  ask — what  are  five  horses  ? 
Easily  enough  you  may  replace  the  ones  taken  from  your 
own  company  by  seizing  others.  Oh !  I  care  not  how 
you  do  it;  but  surely  you  will  not  deny  me  this  little  I 
demand." 

But  the  Sieur  Giraud  shook  his  head  gloomily. 

"  The  matter  of  the  horses,  perchance,  might  be  easily 
managed,"  he  said ;  "  yet  would  you  try  to  reach 
Dauphine  with  but  four  as  an  escort  ?  Who  are  the  four  ?  " 

"  Madame  la  Comtesse  here " 

"  And  one  of  the  four  a  woman !  "  he  muttered. 

"  And  three  stout  bowmen  who  bore  me  company 
when  I  came  north,"  she  said,  heedless  of  his  interrup- 
tion. "  'Tis  to  one  of  these,  Jean  Bonnot,  I  would  have 
you  deliver  over  the  horses.  All  who  could  or  would 
stop  me  will  be  afield;  the  sentries  at  the  gates  will 
scarce  stop  the  Lady  Agathe  and  escort  from  riding 
forth  to  witness  the  review,  and  by  noon,  when  you 
return,  we  shall  be  leagues  away." 

She  was  in  deadly  earnest,  and  her  eyes  burned  on 
his  as  he  met  their  gaze.  Truly,  this  projected  mar- 
riage was  even  more  distasteful  to  the  Lady  Agathe 
than  to  Monsieur  Vignolles,  and  as  he  realised  the  full- 
ness of  this,  the  heart  of  the  Sieur  Giraud  bounded 
within  him. 

Why  should  he  not  do  as  she  asked?  There  was 
small  risk  in  the  act.  Spare  horses  there  were  in  plenty 

35 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


in  his  own  company,  and  he  could  replace  those  taken 
with  others  that  he  would  buy  outright  from  the  towns- 
people. As  for  the  journey  to  Dauphine,  the  country 
was  quiet  enough  once  they  should  be  clear  of  this  tur- 
bulent district,  and  he  dismissed  his  first  fears  in  that 
regard.  Was  he,  then,  to  be  an  idle  spectator  of  the 
hounding  of  this  lady  into  a  loathsome  marriage? 

The  Lady  Agathe's  small  foot  was  tapping  the  floor 
impatiently. 

"  My  lady,  I  accept  the  charge,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  The  mounts  shall  be  ready  at  the  half  hour  before 
ten.  A  man  I  may  trust  will  hold  them  at  your  dis- 
posal where  the  street  just  behind  this  house  meets  the 
cliff.  'Tis  some  hundred  paces  from  here,  but  the  dis- 
tance will  render  it  the  more  secure  from  notice.  I  pray 
you  send  your  man  Bonnot  there  on  the  moment.  God 
grant  that  you  may  get  safely  away ! " 

A  great  sigh  of  mingled  gladness  and  relief  escaped 
her,  and  instinctively  she  put  out  her  hand.  The  Sieur 
Giraud  sank  to  his  knee  and  for  a  moment  his  lips  were 
pressed  upon  it ;  then  his  gaze  rose  to  meet  hers  as  she 
looked  down  upon  him,  a  smile  of  much  tenderness,  he 
thought,  upon  her  face. 

"  Perchance,  my  lady,"  he  said  softly,  "  perchance, 
should  you  come  through  it  safely,  some  time  in  Dau- 
phine— 

"  Perchance,  Sieur  Giraud,  perchance,"  she  almost 
whispered;  then  slowly  withdrew  her  hand  as  he  rose. 

He  stepped  to  the  door  and  threw  it  open  for  their 
passage,  this  time  after  a  glance  without  to  assure  him- 
self that  the  way  was  clear.  But  the  constable  was  no 
man  to  be  caught;  he  had  hurried  away  the  moment 
before. 

In  another  moment  the  ladies  had  passed  from  view, 
36 


WHAT   THE   CONSTABLE   HEARD 

yet  not  without  a  backward  look  over  the  shoulder  from 
the  Lady  Agathe  that  repaid  his  watching-. 

With  a  quickened  pulse  the  Sieur  Giraud  wheeled 
and  made  a  pace  toward  the  door  leading  without.  As 
he  did  so  he  saw  the  Constable  of  France  enter  and 
stand  in  seemingly  casual  converse  with  a  captain  of 
horse.  The  next  instant  his  own  name  was  called,  and 
he  turned  upon  a  page  who  desired,  by  order,  his  imme- 
diate attendance  upon  Count  Charles  de  Charolais. 


37 


CHAPTER  III 

RAGE    AND     RUIN 

THE  fact  that  Count  Charles  was  in  a  good 
humour  served  to  somewhat  hearten  the  Sieur 
Giraud  for  what  he  had  to  convey  to  him  re- 
garding- the  night's  work. 

In  truth,  the  count  seemed  much  pleased  with  him- 
self this  morning.  A  lackey  had  just  handed  him  his 
sword,  and  having  adjusted  it  to  his  proper  liking,  he 
was  regarding  his  image  in  the  steel  mirror  before  him 
with  a  look  almost  of  complacency  upon  his  bold  fea- 
tures. Evidently  his  prolonged  session  with  the  con- 
stable had  been  pleasing  enough.  He  turned  his  head 
as  the  Sieur  Giraud  entered,  and  briefly  acknowledged 
the  latter's  salute. 

"  Ha !  You  are  betimes,  Sieur  Giraud.  The  hands 
of  the  clock  have  scarce  moved  since  I  summoned  you. 
Such  readiness  is  indeed  pleasing,"  he  said  gaily. 

"  I  fear  my  lord  count  gives  me  too  much  credit, 
since  for  some  time  I  have  been  awaiting  an  audience, 
and  had  but  to  traverse  the  corridor." 

"  Say,  rather,  too  little  credit,  then,  since  I  have  kept 
you  waiting,  Sieur  Giraud,"  replied  Count  Charles  gra- 
ciously. "  What  news  do  you  bring  me?  Your  face  was 
ever  a  hard  one  to  read ;  but  tell  me  only  that  you  have 
taken  that  she-devil  of  the  hills  yonder,  who  calls  herself 
Marcelle,  and  name  your  own  reward.  By  St.  Hubert, 
one  wench  such  as  she  is  capable  of  more  deviltry  than 
a  score  such  knaves  as  she  leads !  " 

38 


RAGE   AND   RUIN 


The  Sieur  Giraud  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  my  lord ;  none  so  good  fortune  attended  us," 
he  replied.  "  The  cursed  country  south  of  here  is  one 
vast  warren  with  deep-cut  streams  and  broken  ridges, 
covered  thick  with  underbrush  and  black  with  the 
shadows  of  the  forest.  To  ride  such  country  by  day 
is  impossible,  my  lord;  by  night,  'tis  the  attempt  of  a 
madman.  Yet  I  have  tried,  but  the  wolves  have  taken 
a  safe  earth.  'Twould  require  an  army  to  beat  the  forest 
of  Ardennes." 

As  he  had  spoken  Count  Charles  had  listened  atten- 
tively, and  now  nodded. 

"  You  speak  the  truth,  I  know  full  well,  Sieur 
Giraud,"  he  said.  "  Nor  would  I  have  set  you  such  a 
task  save  for — for  the  temper  I  was  in  last  night,  and 
yet  I  would  give  much  to  lay  hands  on  this  Marcelle 
the  Mad,  as  she  calls  herself." 

This  was  nearer  an  apology  than  any  words  the  Sieur 
Giraud  had  ever  heard  from  Count  Charles,  and  as  he 
bowed  low  he  marveled  thereat.  Would  he  go  further 
and  speak  of  the  Lady  Agathe  ?  But  no ;  the  count  con- 
sidered that  passage  forever  closed  in  the  lives  of  both 
of  them.  This  was  evident  in  his  next  speech. 

"  Your  errand,  then,  was  wholly  without  result,  Sieur 
Giraud  ?  You  learned  naught  of  that  mysterious  '  some- 
thing '  which  was  to  pass  over  the  walls  of  Bouvignes 
last  night  ?  " 

Though  the  man  had  nerved  himself  to  the  recital, 
though  he  had  been  rehearsing  the  best  manner  of  its 
telling,  now,  brought  face  to  face  with  actuality,  he  hesi- 
tated. The  count  was  quick  to  note  this  and  whirled 
upon  him  in  some  impatience,  and  the  Sieur  Giraud 
caught  the  quick  gleam  in  his  dark  eyes  and  the  slight 
quiver  in  his  nostrils. 

39 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  You  understood  me,  Sieur  Giraud  ? "  he  said 
sharply. 

Any  further  faltering  would  only  have  served  to 
make  matters  worse;  but  adieu  the  well-planned  recital; 
adieu  the  carefully  chosen  words.  The  Sieur  Giraud 
plunged  boldly  at  it. 

"  I  understood,  my  lord  count,"  he  replied.  "  Ay, 
'tis  true,  we  did — Monsieur  Vignolles  and  myself — learn 
something  of  what  passed  over  the  walls  of  Bouvignes." 

"  Ah,  then  your  mission  has  not  been  devoid  of  all 
fruit !  "  exclaimed  Count  Charles.  "  And  what  was  this 
mystic  something  which  the  mad  woman  deemed  of  such 
interest  to  me  ?  " 

"  It  was  an  effigy,  my  lord." 

Count  Charles  was  silent  a  moment,  then  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"  Ha !  Tis  ever  the  resort  of  fools !  "  he  cried.  "  An 
effigy  of  myself,  I  suppose  ?  " 

Sieur  Giraud  bowed. 

"  And  you  learned  this  ?  "  continued  the  count. 

"  From  an  old  vine-grower,  at  whose  house  Monsieur 
Vignolles  and  I  made  inquiries,  some  three  leagues  south 
on  the  road  to  Dinant.  The  thing  seems  to  have  been 
planned  for  days,  and  is  common  knowledge  thereabouts. 
Also,  from  the  same  source,  we  learned  something  of 
this  woman  of  the  hills  and  her  company." 

Count  Charles  made  a  gesture  of  contempt. 

"  The  Companions  of  the  Green  Tent,"  he  said 
sneeringly.  "  Companions  of  the  gibbet  they  shall  be- 
come ere  long !  " 

"  The  band  led  by  this  Marcelle  the  Mad  is  but  a 
small  part  of  the  rabble  claiming  the  name,  my  lord 
count,"  said  the  Sieur  Giraud.  '  The  woods  of  the  Ar- 
dennes are  infested  with  the  breed — some  thousands,  I'll 

40 


RAGE  AND   RUiN 


be  sworn,  and,  from  the  vine-grower's  tale,  a  terror  to 
both  the  people  of  Dinant  and  to  the  countryside." 

"  They  shall  pay  for  it,  have  no  fear,  Sieur  Giraud," 
snapped  Count  Charles.  "  They  are  of  that  accursed 
town  of  Dinant,  these  '  Companions.'  That  town  has 
thrown  defiance  at  us  long  enough.  Well  you  know 
how  its  pig-headed  people  have  raised  a  feud  with  our 
town  of  Bouvignes,  so  that  now  no  man's  life  is  safe  in 
these  hills." 

"  Yet  common  report  has  it  that  'twas  Bouvignes  that 
was  the  aggressor,  my  lord  count,"  ventured  the  Sieur 
Giraud. 

'  'Tis  a  lie !  "  roared  the  count,  whose  anger  at  the 
very  mention  of  Dinant  knew  no  limits.  '  'Tis  a  lie,  I 
tell  you!  Ah,  wait;  wait  till  Monseigneur  the  Duke 
arrives.  He  would  not  miss  it  for  worlds,  and  so  I 
delay;  yet  when  I  strike  Dinant  will  never  forget  the 
blow.  They  look  to  Louis  for  aid.  Bah!  He  is  too 
intent  on  stealing  my  northern  provinces  to  spare  them 
a  thought." 

He  broke  off  abruptly  and  fell  to  pacing  the  floor. 
As  for  the  Sieur  Giraud,  he  kept  a  discreet  silence.  Full 
well  he  knew  that  the  affair  about  Bouvignes  was  but 
a  fight  born  of  trade  jealousy.  Full  well  he  knew  that 
the  people  of  Bouvignes,  long  envious  of  the  prosperity 
of  Dinant,  of  its  great  copper  industry  of  Dinanderie, 
had  in  petty  spite  flung  a  blazing  effigy  of  Louis  over 
the  walls  of  Dinant  some  weeks  before.  What  more 
natural  than  the  retaliation  of  which  he  had  just  learned. 
He  knew  as  well,  did  the  Sieur  Giraud,  how  the  whole 
trouble  had  arisen  from  the  appointment  of  Louis  de 
Bourbon  to  the  Bishopric  of  Liege.  All  this  the  Sieur 
Giraud  knew,  yet,  being  less  than  a  fool,  kept  silent. 

Count  Charles  suddenly  came  to  a  stop  before  him. 
41 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


"  This  effigy ;  you  know  who  had  a  hand  in  that, 
Sieur  Giraud  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Its  maker,  as  well  as  the  leader  of  the  band  which 
bore  it  to  Bouvignes,  was  one  Gaspard  Lenoir,  an  artisan 
of  Dinant.  So  much  the  old  man  told  me  under  com- 
pulsion. A  mere  boy  I  judge  him  to  be  from  his  descrip- 
tion." 

"  And  well  chosen  for  the  deed,  since  'tis  but  boy's 
play,"  said  the  count  shortly.  "  I  shall  remember  the 
name — Gaspard  Lenoir.  You  have  done  well,  Sieur 
Giraud.  You  may  withdraw  and  are  excused  from  the 
manoeuvres,  in  view  of  your  night's  work.  So  they  find 
an  effigy  of  me  pleasing,  do  they?  We  shall  see  how 
they  take  the  original  before  many  days." 

The  count's  mind  would  revert  to  that  insult,  lightly 
though  he  affected  to  take  it.  The  Sieur  Giraud  stood 
a  moment  undecided,  then  spoke  in  low  voice: 

"  It  is  of  that  I  had  not  finished  speaking,  my  lord 
count,"  he  said. 

Count  Charles,  with  a  surprised  look,  motioned  him 
to  proceed. 

"  The  effigy  was  first  set  ablaze  ere  being  tossed  over 
the  wall,  my  lord,  and " 

"  I  had  supposed  as  much,"  cut  in  the  count  quickly. 

"  It  was  dressed  in  a  semblance  of  your  costume,  my 
lord,"  continued  the  Sieur  Giraud,  feeling  desperately 
for  his  words ;  "  and  attached  to  it  was  a  shield  bearing 
an  escutcheon." 

"  Let  them  beware  how  they  play  with  my  shield !  " 
said  Count  Charles  grimly. 

"  My  lord,  'twas  not  your  shield,  though  proper  for 
it,  save — save " 

"  Save  what,  Sieur  Giraud  ? "  exclaimed  the  count. 

"  Save  that  it  bore  the  bend  sinister,  my  lord  count." 
42 


RAGE   AND   RUIN 


It  had  come  out  at  last.  The  Sieur  Giraud  waited 
for  the  outburst,  yet  for  a  full  moment  not  a  sound 
broke  the  stillness  save  the  noises  of  the  street  beneath. 
Then,  with  the  roar  of  a  maddened  bull,  Count  Charles 
relaxed  all  hold  on  himself. 

"  So !  These  Dinant  pigs  be  not  content  with  casting 
derision  upon  me,  but  must  needs  have  their  accursed 
fling  at  the  honour  of  my  mother.  A  bastard  they  would 
label  me,  eh?  Then  by  that  name  they  have  thought  to 
blacken,  by  the  fair  name  of  my  house,  and  by  God,  no 
longer  may  they  look  for  mercy ! " 

The  Sieur  Giraud  fell  back  before  him,  for  the  great 
bulk  of  the  man  and  his  transformed  features  threw  a 
wave  of  fear  into  his  veins.  Angry  outbursts  were  com- 
mon enough  with  Count  Charles,  but  ne'er  had  the  Sieur 
Giraud  seen  him  wholly  mad  before.  His  teeth  ground 
savagely  together,  and  his  great  hands  were  clenched  till 
the  very  bones  threatened  to  crack  with  the  strain. 

"  And  I  had  meditated  punishment  in  ordinary  upon 
these  fools,  these  defamers ! "  roared  the  count.  "  By 
Our  Lady,  now  have  my  eyes  been  opened!  For  this 
outrage  upon  my  house  Dinant  shall  give  its  very  life, 
its  very  existence.  Not  one  stone  shall  remain  on  an- 
other of  all  its  walls ;  not  one  roof  above  the  earth ;  and 
by  God !  such  survivors  as  there  may  be  after  I  am  done 
I  will  scatter  to  the  four  winds !  Dinant  shall  become  as 
a  desert,  and  its  very  name  synonymous  with  desolation 
and  misery ! " 

His  hand  now  was  fumbling  nervously  at  his  hilt. 
By  a  great  effort  he  steadied  himself  long  enough  to  say, 
as  he  waved  the  Sieur  Giraud  from  the  room : 

"  This  is  no  idle  boast,  Sieur  Giraud.  You  shall  see 
its  fulfilment,  I  promise  you.  And  now  go;  I  would 
be  alone." 

4  43 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


And  the  Sieur  Giraud  tarried  not  an  instant,  but 
backed  through  the  door  and  rapidly  made  for  the  en- 
trance. As  he  did  so  the  constable  passed  him  and 
acknowledged  his  salute  with  a  smiling  face. 

With  the  pleasant  consciousness  of  an  ugly  business 
ended,  the  Sieur  Giraud  made  his  way  quickly  through 
the  crowds  of  soldiery  till  he  came  to  the  street  where 
the  horses  of  his  company  were  quartered.  There  was 
now  only  on  his  mind  the  matter  of  those  mounts  for 
the  Lady  Agathe,  and  that,  with  the  aid  of  a  man-at- 
arms  who  held  him  in  high  favour,  he  speedily  arranged. 
For  himself  he  had  no  mind  to  take  advantage  of  Count 
Charles's  offer  to  relieve  him  from  duty  at  the  review. 
It  was  policy  for  him  to  be  there,  as  the  Lady  Agathe 
had  said.  With  that  in  mind,  he  devoted  the  time  until 
the  half  hour  before  ten  to  inspecting  his  men  and  then 
mounted,  leaving  orders  for  the  formation  of  his  com- 
mand, and  rode  slowly  toward  the  count's  quarters. 

As  he  drew  rein  at  the  door  the  count  himself  came 
to  the  window  and  beckoned  him  to  enter.  Dismounting 
and  handing  his  rein  over  to  a  lackey,  he  made  haste 
to  comply. 

As  he  entered  he  was  glad  to  note  that  Count 
Charles's  anger  had  seemingly  spent  itself,  yet  he  seemed 
strangely  uneasy,  and  looked  ever  and  anon  from  the 
window  as  though  expecting  some  one. 

"  You  have  not  seen  fit  to  forego  the  pleasure  of 
manoeuvres  under  this  sun,  Sieur  Giraud,"  he  said  with 
perhaps  a  trace  of  irony  in  his  tone.  "  By  my  faith,  were 
all  of  your  temper,  we  should  soon  need  no  morning 
call!" 

"  A  night  in  the  saddle  was  scarce  enough  to  warrant 
such  retirement,  my  lord  count,"  answered  the  Sieur 
Giraud. 

44 


RAGE   AND   RUIN 


"  Some  would  have  found  such  a  night's  experience 
quite  sufficient  reason,  Sieur  Giraud,"  replied  the  count 
drily  and  in  such  strange  tone  that  the  Sieur  Giraud 
looked  furtively  at  him  as  he  again  shot  a  glance  from 
the  window. 

"  Yet  I  have  never  found  you  aught  than  faithful, 
Sieur  Giraud,"  continued  Count  Charles.  "  Let  me  see ; 
your  father  was  a  physician  at  Paris,  was  he  not  ?  " 

"  He  was  at  the  bedside  of  King  Charles  VII.  in  his 
last  illness,  my  lord  count,"  replied  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  An  honour,  indeed ;  yet  methinks  were  he  alive 
to-day  he  would  be  proud  of  what  you  have  come  to 
at  seven-and-a-score  years — what  I  have  made  you, 
would  he  not,  Sieur  Giraud  ?  " 

"  He  would,  my  lord  count,"  was  the  puzzled  answer, 
for  the  motive  of  this  questioning  was  not  clear. 

"  And  he  would  marvel  that  such  preference  could 
be  attained  in  the  three  years  you  have  been  attached 
to  me  ?  "  persisted  Count  Charles.  "  And  consider  that 
such  advancement  was  deserving  of  the  utmost  devotion 
and  submission  to  its  donor  ?  " 

"  He  could  not  think  otherwise,  my  lord,"  and  again 
there  was  wonderment  in  his  tone  as  to  what  all  this 
was  leading. 

At  that  moment  there  came  the  clatter  of  hoofs  from 
without,  and  again  the  count  looked  down  upon  the 
street.  The  Sieur  Giraud  made  no  doubt  these  were 
the  mounts  for  Count  Charles  and  his  staff  for  the 
review. 

"  Then,  since  your  father  would  have  deemed  such 
return  only  fair  for  so  great  profit,  there  must  be  little 
of  his  blood  flowing  in  your  veins,  Sieur  Giraud." 

The  words  fell  with  icy  coldness  from  the  count's 
lips  as  he  turned  and  faced  the  other. 

45 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  I — I  do  not  understand,  my  lord,"  he  faltered. 

Count  Charles  stamped  his  spurred  heel  viciously,  as 
though  treading  life  from  some  crawling  thing. 

"  Whatever  else  you  may  be,  you  have  never  shown 
yourself  the  pure  fool,  save  in  respect  to  the  one  thing 
I  have  in  mind,  Sieur  Giraud,"  he  said.  "  You  lie  when 
you  say  you  do  not  understand,  or  else  you  are  become 
of  a  sudden  duller  than  the  dullest.  In  that  event,  you 
will  require  awakening." 

He  clapped  his  hands  heavily,  and  a  page  entered  by 
a  side  door  even  as  he  ended. 

"  My  compliments  to  the  Lady  Agathe  de  Laval  and 
Madame  la  Comtesse  de  Laubec,  and  that  I  beseech 
their  instant  attendance  ere  I  set  out  for  the  field." 

The  page  backed  from  the  room  with  lowered  head. 
As  for  the  Sieur  Giraud,  he  stood  lost  in  conjecture. 
Clearly  Count  Charles  knew  something,  but  how  much? 
As  they  waited  the  coming  of  the  ladies,  the  count 
whimsically  slashed  at  flies  as  they  darted  about  the 
room  and  paid  no  heed  to  his  companion.  An  instant 
summons  from  the  count  meant  naught  else,  and  a  mo- 
ment or  two  only  had  passed  when  the  Lady  Agathe 
entered,  followed  by  the  older  woman.  The  former  gave 
a  start  on  seeing  the  Sieur  Giraud  present,  though  it  was 
but  passing. 

"  You  have  word  for  us,  my  lord  count  ?  "  she  asked, 
turning  her  gaze  straight  into  the  count's. 

He  swept  her  from  head  to  foot  with  one  hawklike 
glance. 

"  You  have  anticipated  the  very  request  I  had  to 
make,  it  seems,  my  Lady  Agathe,  which  was  that  you 
don  riding  costume  and  join  me  at  the  review,"  he  said, 
and  pointed  to  the  booted  foot,  which  showed  its  tip 
beneath  the  hem  of  her  riding  kirtle. 

46 


RAGE   AND   RUIN 


The  Lady  Agathe  gasped  faintly  and  the  colour  fled 
from  her  face. 

"  My  lord,  I — I  would  pray  to  be  excused.  My 
head " 

"  Is  whirling,  no  doubt,  my  lady,"  he  snapped  sud- 
denly. "  And  does  Madame  la  Comtesse  suffer  from  the 
same  sudden  attack  ?  " 

But  this  poor  soul  could  think  of  naught  to  say,  and 
so  swept  him  a  most  profound  courtesy. 

Count  Charles  abandoned  his  false  manner. 

"  Enough  of  this,  my  ladies !  Think  you  to  carry 
on  your  precious  schemes  behind  my  back  ?  "  he  cried. 
"  Know,  then,  that  I  know  all.  So  bold  a  plan  this  was, 
though,  that  I  questioned  the  report  of  it  laid  before 
me.  But  look  you  here — you,  Sieur  Giraud." 

He  motioned  the  latter  to  the  window. 

"  See  you  those  mounts  below  ?  " 

A  glance  sufficed  the  Sieur  Giraud.  They  were  the 
very  beasts  he  had  sent  to  the  rendezvous  for  the  use  of 
the  Lady  Agathe. 

"  Ha !  You  need  not  answer.  I  see  'tis  not  your 
first  view  of  them." 

He  turned  again  to  the  Lady  Agathe. 

"  As  for  you,  my  lady,  and  you,  Madame  la  Com- 
tesse, a  pity  'twere  to  render  the  task  of  donning  such 
costumes  wholly  fruitless.  You  shall  indeed  ride  the 
horses  the  Sieur  Giraud  has  so  kindly  provided,  and 
you  shall  see  as  much  of  the  manoeuvres  as  your  sur- 
rounding escort  will  allow.  Unfortunately,  our  field  lies 
not  in  the  direction  of  Dauphine." 

The  Lady  Agathe  had  recovered  something  of  her 
spirit. 

"  The  work  of  some  sneaking  spy,  my  lord  count !  " 
she  said  bitterly  enough. 

47 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  Yet  useful  in  this  instance,  my  Lady  Agathe.  I  beg 
of  you  cloak  yourselves,  my  ladies,  with  such  expedition 
as  may  be,  for  I  hear  my  own  horses  now  coming  from 
the  stables."  And  imperiously  he  waved  them  forth,  but 
as  the  Lady  Agathe  went  her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
Sieur  Giraud's,  and  in  her  look  was  a  mighty,  swelling 
plea  for  forgiveness. 

The  door  had  hardly  closed  upon  them  when  Count 
Charles  addressed  himself  to  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  For  less  offence  than  you  have  given  I  have  hanged 
some,  Sieur  Giraud,"  he  said.  "  I  spare  you,  perchance 
because  I  cannot  forget  that  day  at  Montlhery,  yet  I 
will  have  no  man  about  me  to  whom  my  word  is  not 
law.  The  obedience  I  demand  must  be  blind;  I  want 
no  reasons ;  I  will  have  no  contention.  Of  the  four  roads 
from  Namur  take  your  choice,  and  thank  God  you  are 
permitted  so  to  do.  You  have  done  me  some  good  ser- 
vice, and  for  it  I  have  squared  the  account  by  raising  you 
above  older  men  who  have  been  longer  of  my  household. 
You  lacked  appreciation,  and  now — it  is  finished.  A 
guard  awaits  you  without;  they  will  escort  you  through 
the  gates.  Adieu,  Sieur  Giraud !  " 

For  a  moment  the  man  staggered  beneath  the  blow 
so  swiftly  dealt.  He  raised  his  head  and  seemed  about 
to  speak.  Count  Charles's  whip  pointed  inexorably  to 
the  door. 

And  thus  the  Sieur  Giraud,  ruined  in  fortune, 
stripped  of  the  authority  he  had  so  briefly  enjoyed,  and 
crushed  in  spirit,  reeled  heavily  from  the  presence  of 
his  former  master.  Nor  till  the  gates  were  at  his  back 
did  he  come  to  full  realisation  of  his  misfortune  and 
disgrace. 


48 


CHAPTER   IV 

COMPANIONS    OF    THE   GREEN    TENT 

SAVE  for  the  distant  murmur  of  a  depleted  hill 
stream   tumbling   lazily    along   its   rock-strewn 
bed,    an   oppressive    stillness    was    in    the    air. 
High  above  in  the  fleckless  blue  a  white  sun 
glowed  consumedly,  and  in  the  open  beneath  all  things 
shimmered  in  the  quivering  heat  waves  that  rose  from 
the  arid  earth. 

Yet  under  the  great  green  roof  of  the  forest  of  Ar- 
dennes was  a  cool  freshness  in  utter  contrast  with  con- 
ditions without.  Such  few  rays  of  sunlight  as  forced  a 
passage  through  the  motionless  canopy  fell  in  but  weak 
and  scattered  patches  on  undergrowth  and  sward. 

An  ideal  retreat  this  on  such  a  day,  one  might  say ; 
and  so,  in  truth,  seemed  to  think  the  score  or  more 
ragged  and  unshaven  men  who  sprawled  in  various 
attitudes  in  that  part  of  the  forest  overlooking  Dinant. 
Little  there  was  of  agreement  in  their  dress,  though 
they  were  of  one  band ;  and,  withal,  much  that  was  ludi- 
crous, for  he  who  boasted  doublet  of  superfine  quality 
was  quite  likely  to  suffer  sadly  as  to  hose,  while  his 
neighbour,  sporting  the  hose  which  properly  belonged 
with  the  doublet,  completed  his  attire  with  the  rough, 
leathern  jerkin  of  an  artisan.  Some  were  barefoot;  the 
legs  and  feet  of  others  rudely  bound  with  thongs  of 
deerskin,  and  clearly  each  had  habited  himself  in  accord- 
ance with  some  system  of  spoil  and  in  such  apparel  as 

49 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


had  fallen  to  his  share.  But  one  token  they  bore  in  com- 
mon, the  twig  of  pine  which  adorned  their  caps.  And 
yet  these  vagabonds,  despite  their  wretched  state,  were 
happy — most  outright  vagabonds  are — if  one  might 
judge  by  their  general  hilarity,  an  hilarity  which  scarce 
seemed  shared  by  the  few  half-starved  dogs  which  were 
curled  up  in  their  midst  and  slept  with  ever  a  wary  eye 
upon  their  guardians. 

At  a  little  distance  from  the  men  sat  a  small  knot  of 
women,  some  half  dozen  slatternly,  unkempt  creatures, 
who  busied  themselves  over  some  steaming  mixture  in 
a  great  kettle  over  the  fire.  There  was  youth  in  the 
figures  and  movements  of  some  of  these ;  but  age,  a  cruel 
age,  had  set  its  mark  upon  their  faces,  and  hardship  had 
ground  enduring  lines  where  flesh  should  have  been 
smooth.  Yet  even  these  women  were  for  the  moment 
heedless  of  the  past — forgetful  of  the  miseries  which  had 
driven  them  to  this  life  of  wild  beasts.  Obviously,  affairs 
must  have  been  prosperous  with  this  band  of  Compan- 
ions of  the  Green  Tent,  for  such  they  were. 

"  Faith,  and  when  shall  we  repeat  the  stroke  of  yes- 
terday, comrades  ? "  cried  a  rather  sullen-looking  man 
of  hardly  twoscore  and  ten  who  formed  one  of  a  group 
of  five  playing  at  cards  in  the  very  centre  of  the  com- 
pany. He  paused  in  the  act  of  dealing  and  added: 

"  Six  rolls  of  velvet,  a  double  handful  of  golden 
crowns,  two  as  good  horses  as  there  are  in  Burgundy ; 
'twas  a  rich  haul,  Tite,  and  may  St.  Hubert  bless  you 
for  the  gift  of  these  cards ! " 

There  was  a  hum  of  approval  on  his  ending,  as  he 
dealt  the  cards  rapidly  around  the  circle.  The  one  ad- 
dressed as  Tite,  a  wrinkled  and  gray-haired  man  of  nigh 
threescore,  looked  up  as  he  gathered  in  his  portion. 

"  Well  may  you  say  so,  Crepin,  since,  if  I  know 
50 


COMPANIONS  OF  THE  GREEN   TENT 

aught  of  cards,  these  have  cost  my  lord  the  bishop  scarce 
less  than  a  score  sols  parisis  the  pack,"  he  answered,  and 
added :  "  And  when  I  laid  my  first  stake  'twas  on  a  pack 
with  no  queen,  but  chevalier  instead;  so  you  may  know 
how  many  years  I've  handled  them.  But  ne'er  before 
have  such  as  these  come  my  way." 

The  other  players  laughed  as  he  threw  a  card  into 
the  centre  and  placed  two  coins  before  him,  as  showing 
his  stake.  In  truth,  'twas  an  outrage  for  such  hands 
to  defile  the  gold  and  resplendent  painting  these  cards 
bore.  One  might  well  believe  Tite's  estimate  of  their 
cost  in  Paris. 

Crepin  slapped  the  cards  he  held  against  his  hand. 

"  Methinks  the  bishop  will  suffer  greater  woe  in  the 
loss  of  these  than  he  would  in  the  Pope's  curse,"  he 
cried. 

"  To  the  devil  with  my  lord  the  bishop ! "  growled 
another  of  the  players,  one  Andre  Vaucler,  a  former 
master  artisan  in  brass  work.  "  Why  should  he  have  a 
thought?  Has  he  ever  spared  one  for  us,  save  to  drive 
us  the  farther  toward  ruin?" 

An  ugly  murmur  of  assent  greeted  the  words. 

"  You  have  reason,  Andre,"  cried  Poncet  Meux,  an- 
other former  metal  worker.  "  Let  the  bishop  take  to 
dice  if  he  must  game.  But,  by  my  faith,  I'd  like  to  see 
his  face  when  he  hears  of  how  his  messenger  was 
served." 

"  He  won't  hear,  boy,"  said  Tite  quietly,  paying  over 
to  Crepin  what  he  had  just  lost.  "  He  won't  hear ;  at 
'  least,  not  for  some  time,  since  a  clout  on  the  head  will 
keep  the  man  in  Bouvignes  a  fortnight.  'Twas  thither 
I  took  him  on  his  own  horse  and  left  him  at  handy  dis- 
tance to  the  walls." 

"  The  more  fool  you !  "  exclaimed  Crepin  in  a  surly 
51 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


voice.  "  A  knife  between  the  ribs  was  his  desert ;  but 
you  always  play  the " 

The  hand  of  Tite  fell  roughly  on  his  shoulder  and 
he  started  quickly,  while  his  hand  stole  to  his  belt. 

"  Look  you  here,  Crepin  Brune,"  said  Tite  in  an 
even  tone,  "  when  you  were  born  I  was  trying  to  forget 
the  things  you  think  to  know.  There  is  one  in  our  com- 
pany who  may  pass  upon  my  conduct,  and  that  one  is 
not  you,  Crepin.  Marcelle  is  satisfied ;  therefore,  do  you 
hold  your  tongue.  What  I  wanted,  that  I  had  from  the 
bishop's  messenger,  whom  chance  and  his  own  stupidity 
in  choosing  such  a  route  threw  in  my  way.  I  had  no 
use  for  the  fool's  life.  When  you  have  done  aught  to 
warrant  it,  then  may  you  talk  as  you  list,  but  till  then 
ne'er  again  speak  to  me  as  you  have.  And,"  he  added, 
as  he  caught  the  other's  motion,  "  take  your  hand  from 
that  knife,  lad,  lest  you  cut  yourself." 

A  roar  of  laughter  greeted  this  sally,  and  Crepin's 
hand  left  his  belt.  It  had  been  the  action  of  a  dolt,  in 
truth,  since  Tite  was  the  idol  of  all  the  rest.  Yet  the 
man's  face  was  lowering,  and  an  ugly  gleam  was  in  his 
eye  as  he  growled : 

"  From  you  I'll  take  the  words,  Tite ;  but  you'll  know 
some  day  which  is  the  better  man  of  us." 

And  at  that  another  burst  of  shouting  arose,  and 
Crepin  threw  down  his  cards  angrily  and  rose  to  his 
feet.  At  the  sound  of  the  laughter  one  of  the  women 
came  up  to  the  group,  and,  as  Crepin  ended,  her  harsh 
voice  rang  out  in  derision.  A  great,  coarse  woman  was 
this  one,  who  towered  over  Crepin  as  she  planted  herself 
before  him,  arms  akimbo  and  head  bent  mockingly  to 
one  side.  As  a  delicate  tribute  to  her  Amazonian  pro- 
portions, she  passed  by  the  name  of  Petite  Maman. 

"  Is  it  so,  Crepin  ?  "  she  cried.  "  We  have  to  choose 
52 


COMPANIONS   OF   THE   GREEN   TENT 

'twixt  you  and  Tite  some  day?  Well,  so  be  it.  Here- 
with and  now  I  do  cast  my  vote." 

With  that  she  bent  quickly  and  thrust  the  end  of  the 
twig  she  carried  into  Tite's  mouth.  With  the  utmost 
complacency  Tite  bit  off  the  piece  of  deer  meat  and, 
throwing  the  stick  to  one  side,  chewed  away  with  an 
epicurean  air. 

"  Bravo,  Petite  Maman !  "  shouted  Bonne  Fleuron, 
the  youngest  of  them  all,  from  where  she  stood  at  the 
kettle.  "  My  vote  the  same  way,  Tite." 

"  And  mine,  and  mine ! "  came  in  one  laughing 
breath  from  Ulrique  Cadet  and  Celie  Lespere. 

Petite  Maman  extended  her  arms  to  Crepin  and  cried 
mockingly : 

"  You  see  the  Fates  are  against  you,  Crepin ;  yet 
come — Petite  Maman  will  be  more  kind." 

"  To  the  devil  with  you,  you  hag ! "  growled  Crepin 
sourly,  while  the  others  roared  at  Petite  Maman's  air 
of  entreaty  and  the  supplication  in  her  ugly  features. 

"  Much  would  I  give  to  know  why  you  should  give 
yourself  such  airs,  Crepin  Brune,"  she  said  with  much 
contempt,  and  then  turned  again  to  Tite.  "  But  more 
would  I  give  to  know  whether  the  stew  be  cooked  to 
your  liking,  Tite." 

He  looked  up  at  her  as  she  stood  awaiting  his  verdict. 

"  Ne'er  have  I  tasted  meat  of  such  a  flavour,  Petite 
Maman,"  he  said,  and  smacked  his  lips. 

"  There,  do  you  hear  that,  you  others  ?  You,  Crepin, 
do  you  hear  ?  "  cried  the  woman.  "  He  swears  to  like 
it,  and  yet  'twas  naught  but  clear  gristle  I  gave  him. 
Now  you'll  know,  Crepin,  why  'tis  we  like  old  Tite;  be- 
cause naught  that  goes  wrong  e'er  rubs  him  the  wrong 
way,  and  he  spares  himself  the  trouble  of  whining  and 
complaining.  See ;  he's  chewing  at  the  thing  yet !  "  she 

53 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


added,  catching  Tite  in  the  act  of  shifting  from  one  side 
of  his  mouth  to  the  other  the  cartilage  he  had  been  un- 
able to  masticate. 

There  was  a  twinkle  in  the  old  man's  eye  as  he  rose, 
and  drawing  the  gristle  from  his  mouth,  examined  it 
curiously. 

"  I  did  my  best  for  your  fame  as  cook,  Petite 
Maman,"  he  said. 

"  Tite,  you're  a  dear !  "  she  cried,  and  ere  he  could 
move  to  resist,  she  had  planted  a  sounding  kiss  on  the 
little  space  free  from  beard  under  his  eye.  The  next 
moment  she  was  shouting,  and  above  them  all  her  voice 
was  supreme — calling  them  to  the  kettle  for  their  shares 
of  the  savoury  compound  within. 

At  the  same  moment,  and  even  as  the  men  rose,  a 
slight  figure,  dressed  from  head  to  foot  in  green,  came 
through  the  forest  at  one  side  and  walked  toward  them. 
With  no  exception  the  caps  came  off  those  tousled  heads 
at  sight  of  her.  Had  Monsieur  Vignolles  been  present 
he  would  have  had  no  difficulty  in  recognising  the  new- 
comer as  Marcelle  the  Mad. 

"  My  comrades,  till  now  I  have  had  no  chance  to 
count  the  spoils  of  yesterday.  They  are  even  greater 
than  I  had  hoped  for,"  she  said  quickly.  "  I  shall  divide 
them  according  to  the  usual  arrangement,  one-fifth  to 
the  gainer,  the  rest  in  equal  shares.  As  the  purse  taken 
from  my  lord  the  bishop's  man  contained  a  score  and  ten 
golden  crowns,  here  are  your  six,  Tite;  and  do  you  see 
to  the  division  of  the  remainder." 

She  handed  two  small  sacks  to  him  addressed,  while 
the  men  crowded  round  her  eagerly. 

"  But  you,  Marcelle ;  you,  as  usual,  have  taken 
naught !  "  exclaimed  Tite. 

"  When  I  am  in  need  I  shall  call  upon  you,  Tite, 
54 


COMPANIONS  OF  THE   GREEN   TENT 

since  you  are  now  become  one  of  affluence,"  she  an- 
swered with  a  laugh  that  showed  the  evenness  and  white- 
ness of  her  teeth.  "  Besides,  I  have,  in  truth,  laid  hands 
on  one  of  the  pieces  of  velvet ;  the  rest  you  may  apportion 
as  seems  best,  Petite  Maman.  Ne'er  would  I  have  cour- 
age for  such  task  or  the  consequences  of  my  distribu- 
tion." 

She  laughed  again  at  the  covetous  look  which  had 
stolen  into  the  women's  faces  at  mention  of  the  finery, 
and  before  realising  it  they  were  laughing  with  her. 
There  was  something  of  contagion  in  the  upward  toss 
of  her  head  as  she  flung  her  short,  black  locks  backward 
from  her  face,  alive  with  such  colour  as  only  the  sun  and 
free  air  of  heaven  may  impart.  In  truth,  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles  had  not  erred  in  rating  this  maid  of  the  forest 
beautiful,  yet  it  was  an  almost  rude  beauty,  quite  in 
accord  with  that  which  gave  charm  to  the  wild  roses 
clinging  to  the  undergrowth  and  grace  to  the  lithe  and 
flowing  ferns  at  their  side. 

"  And  now,  comrades,  let  me  no  longer  delay  your 
repast,"  she  continued.  "  The  men  watching  on  the  hills 
must  be  relieved  within  the  hour.  Tite,  you  will  see 
that  there  is  no  delay.  They  are  affected  by  hunger  as 
well  as " 

She  broke  off  short  and  stared  straight  before  her; 
then,  with  a  quick  motion,  enjoined  silence.  The  others, 
following  her  look,  for  a  moment  stood  amazed.  Then 
Tite  and  some  others  stole  softly  to  the  trees  where  hung 
their  bows  and  noiselessly  fitted  shaft  to  string.  That 
done,  they  waited  Marcelle's  word,  watching  closely  the 
one  who  approached. 

For  head  upon  breast  and  eyes  upon  the  ground  a 
man  was  unconsciously  walking  into  their  midst ;  a  large 
man  he  was,  with  rich  dress  and  a  great  sword,  which 

55 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


for  easier  carrying  he  had  caught  up  under  his  arm. 
Dust  lay  thick  over  all  his  attire,  from  the  mantle  which 
he  had  thrown  aside  so  that  it  trailed  from  one  shoulder 
to  the  great  boots  which  spouted  little  powdery  puffs  as 
he  walked. 

It  was  not  any  sound  on  the  part  of  those  he  ap- 
proached; it  was  not  any  consciousness  of  the  presence 
of  others,  but  the  faint  scent  of  food  from  the  kettle 
which,  after  he  had  run  his  head  well  within  the  noose, 
caused  the  man  to  halt  and  throw  up  his  head. 

The  bow-strings  of  Tite  and  the  others  were  half- 
drawn  on  the  instant;  yet  Marcelle  made  no  sign,  but 
stood  meeting  the  man's  gaze,  which  was  full  directed 
upon  her.  His  sword  slipped  to  the  ground  as,  with  a 
fleeting  glance,  he  swept  the  rest  of  the  band.  Then,  his 
shoulders  shrugged  ever  so  lightly,  his  gaze  returned  to 
Marcelle,  and  with  a  look  of  weariness  he  leaned  upon 
his  hilt  and  seemed  to  await  the  consequences  of  his 
position  with  utter  indifference. 

"Well,  fool!" 

There  was  little  that  augured  well  for  the  man  in 
the  tone  Marcelle  used;  yet  he  seemed  to  care  naught 
for  that  or  for  the  offence  her  words  carried. 

"  You  have  named  me  aright,"  he  said  simply. 

Marcelle  scarce  knew  how  to  take  his  manner.  She 
feared  a  trap  of  some  kind,  and  turned  quickly  to  Poncet 
Meux. 

"  Do  you  take  a  half-score  men,  Poncet,  and  scour 
the  wood  hereabouts,"  she  said.  "No;  Tite  and  you, 
Crepin,  remain  here,"  and  then  again  facing  the  stranger, 
and  with  a  show  of  mockery,  "  And  now,  who  and  what 
may  you  be,  my  lord,  and  what  spying  game  is  it  you 
play?" 

He  smiled  faintly. 

56 


COMPANIONS  OF  THE  GREEN   TENT 

"  Have  I  played  it  like  a  spy  ?  "  he  asked ;  but  his 
question  only  served  to  further  rouse  Marcelle,  and  she 
stamped  her  foot  on  the  ground  in  anger.  The  band 
drew  nearer  and  cast  lowering  looks  at  him  who  so  dared 
brave  her,  but  he  paid  them  no  heed. 

"  Answer  me  not  with  idle  question !  "  cried  Mar- 
celle. "  Who  and  what  are  you  ?  " 

"  For  the  first,  it  matters  not ;  call  me  by  any  name 
you  will  save  my  own,"  he  answered.  "  For  the  second 
— what  am  I? — the  answer  is  even  easier — nothing." 

;<  Think  not  to  hoodwink  me  by  evasion,"  cried  Mar- 
celle ;  "  yet  since  you  would  for  the  moment  conceal  your 
identity,  I  would  hear  whence  you  came  and  with  what 
purpose." 

The  man  laughed,  but  there  was  no  mirth  in  it. 

"  Whence  came  I,  forsooth  ?  "  He  glanced  down  at 
his  apparel  and  shook  his  head  as  he  muttered,  "  I  must 
have  come  leagues,  leagues  without  knowing  it." 

"  I  am  waiting!"  cried  Marcelle,  and  he  shook  him- 
self as  one  awaking  from  a  sound  sleep. 

"  I  came  from  Namur ;  from  the  household  of  Count 
Charles  de  Charolais — Charles  the  Bold,  some  call  him 
— and  with  the  purpose  of  seeking  death." 

There  was  an  ugly  surge  forward  of  the  company 
at  mention  of  Count  Charles's  name. 

"  The  dolt  has  chosen  the  right  direction  to  achieve 
his  purpose,"  said  Crepin  Brune  under  his  breath. 

Marcelle  quieted  the  men  with  a  sign. 

"  We  are  favoured  of  late  with  visits  from  your 
camp,"  she  said  shortly.  "  But  yesterday  we  received 
one  Monsieur  Vignolles,  and  now  you  appear.  Did  we 
repeat  our  treatment  of  him  in  your  case  it  might  become 
unpleasant.  Our  hospitality  would  soon  become  over- 
strained." 

57 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  And  so  you  would  dispose  of  me.  Well,  what  of 
it?" 

Again  Marcelle  was  puzzled  by  the  man's  heedless 
tone  and,  for  a  moment,  at  a  loss  for  words. 

"  Why  have  you  left  the  Count  de  Charolais  ?  "  she 
asked  suddenly,  but  the  man  shook  his  head. 

"  I  will  tell  you  no  more,"  he  said,  and  there  was 
enough  firmness  in  his  tone.  "  I  had  not  sought  this 
meeting;  but  since  it  has  happened,  let  events  take  their 
course.  'Tis  a  solution  ready  to  hand." 

Again  the  men  crowded  toward  him,  but  he  made  no 
move  to  draw  the  great  blade  before  him,  and  they  hesi- 
tated. Had  he  done  so,  they  would  have  been  upon  him 
in  a  body. 

Crepin  Brune  spoke,  and  he  voiced  the  sentiments 
of  most  of  the  rest. 

"  What  matters  it  why  he  left  that  'cursed  Burgun- 
dian,  Marcelle?  That  ever  he  was  in  that  service  is 
enough  for  us." 

"  Ay,  that  it  is !  "  came  cries  from  all  sides,  and  then 
of  a  sudden  Andre  Vaucler,  who  had  been  watching  the 
stranger's  face  intently,  burst  forth: 

"  I  know  this  man,  Marcelle !  Poncet,  Poncet,  do 
you  not  remember  last  night  ?  " 

But  Poncet  had  gone,  as  Marcelle  had  bade  him, 
some  moments  before. 

The  stranger  looked  sharply  at  Andre,  but  evidently 
was  unable  to  place  him  in  mind. 

"  Speak,  Andre,"  commanded  Marcelle. 

"  Last  night,  some  time  about  the  hour  of  twelve, 
Poncet  and  I  set  out  north  to  pay  his  father  a  visit. 
Poncet  is  no  man  of  Dinant,  but  son  to  a  vine-grower, 
as  you  know.  By  my  faith,  'twas  well  we  went  across 
country,  for  as  we  were  sliding  down  the  hill  behind 

58 


COMPANIONS  OF   THE   GREEN   TENT 

the  house,  two  troopers  rode  in  by  the  front.  When 
they  had  entered  we  stole  up,  and  Poncet,  knowing  the 
house,  of  course,  had  no  trouble  in  seeing  through  the 
window  who  these  men  were.  One  was  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles  and  the  other  this  man  here." 

"  And  you  made  no  effort  to  get  an  arrow  through 
the  one  or  the  other  of  them  ?  "  cried  Crepin. 

"  'Twas  in  my  mind,  but  Poncet  would  not  have  it — 
said  'twould  mean  his  father's  life  and  vineyard,"  an- 
swered Andre.  "  And  well  it  was  we  tried  it  not,  since, 
when  they  did  leave,  we  followed  and  saw  them  join  a 
score  men-at-arms,  who  awaited  them  a  hundred  paces 
along  the  road.  Then  we  went  back,  and  the  old  man 
told  us  what  was  afoot.  The  two  had  asked  many  ques- 
tions about  the  affair  at  Bouvignes  and  forced  him  to 
tell  them  much  about  Marcelle." 

"Marcelle!" 

The  cry  was  one  angered  roar. 

"Ay,  Marcelle,  indeed!"  shouted  Andre.  "'Twas 
to  take  her  they  were  prowling  about  the  hills,  as  well 
as  to  learn  of  the  doings  at  Bouvignes.  I  reported  the 
thing  to  Marcelle  herself  this  morning." 

"  Ay,  'tis  so ;  yet  I  paid  it  scant  attention  then,"  she 
said,  and  her  dark  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  stranger's. 
"  Methinks  you  made  no  mention  of  names,  Andre.  Did 
you  learn  by  what  name  this  one  went  ?  " 

"  Ay,  for  Poncet's  father  heard  the  other  address  him 
by  it " 

"  To  the  devil  with  his  name !  "  cried  Crepin.  "  This 
man,  last  night  in  the  service  of  Charolais,  hunting  down 
our  Marcelle,  and  we  stay  to  speak  of  names !  Come  on, 
comrades ! " 

Marcelle  threw  herself  before  the  object  of  their  as- 
sault, who  stood  motionless  as  before. 
5  59 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  Back,  dogs !  "  she  cried,  and  at  sight  of  her  furious 
look  they  hesitated.  "  Tite,  do  you  take  your  stand  by 
me.  Till  I  am  done  with  this  man,  shoot  down  the  first 
who  would  lay  hand  on  him.  You  would  interfere  with 
my  affairs,  Crepin,  you  fool !  Once  before  I  taught  you 
a  lesson,  and  now  beware  lest  my  patience  be  at  an  end. 
Andre,  continue;  you  were  saying " 

"  That  Poncet's  father  caught  this  man's  name — ay, 
Marcelle;  'twas  the  Sieur  Giraud." 

A  second  only  Marcelle  was  silent.  Then  she 
whirled  about. 

"  You  are  the  Sieur  Giraud  d'Orson  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Why  deny  it  now  ?  "  he  answered,  as  though  dis- 
comfited at  the  way  it  had  become  known. 

"  You  write  very  pretty  letters,  Sieur  Giraud," 
snapped  Marcelle.  "  Was  your  sudden  downfall  with 
Count  Charles  due  to  a  lady,  perchance  ?  " 

He  was  silent.  The  Lady  Agathe's  name  was  then 
to  be  bandied  about  among  this  rabble  despite  his  efforts. 

"  I  beg  of  you,  Marcelle— 

The  words  had  escaped  him  ere  he  knew  it,  and  the 
involuntary  pleading  gesture  that  had  accompanied  them. 

For  a  moment  she  seemed  disposed  to  laugh  in  his 
face,  then  said  in  a  low,  hurried  voice : 

"  As  you  will ;  I  wage  no  fight  against  any  lady ;  " 
and  then  louder,  that  the  others  should  hear :  "  You  see 
we  are  well  informed,  Sieur  Giraud,  perchance  as  well 
as  Count  Charles  himself.  And  now  as  to  your  dis- 
position." 

"  Again,  Marcelle,  I  warn  you  there  can  be  but  one 
ending  for  this  man !  "  cried  Crepin. 

"  And  are  you  all  of  the  same  opinion  ?  "  she  asked. 

A  great  cry  of  assent  rose  from  many  throats. 

"He  shall  die?" 

60 


COMPANIONS  OF  THE  GREEN   TENT 

"  Ay,  ay,  that  he  shall." 

Marcelle  thought  for  a  moment,  then,  raising  her 
hand,  said  quietly: 

"  Back ;  I  would  have  a  word  with  the  Sieur  Giraud." 

"  But — "  began  Crepin. 

"Did  you  not  hear,  fool?"  she  cried.  "Back,  I 
say !  "  And  with  bad  enough  grace  he  complied. 

Marcelle  turned  to  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  You  have  heard  what  they  say,  Sieur  Giraud,"  she 
said  rapidly.  "  Nor  may  I  gainsay  them  if  you  persist 
in  defiance.  Yet,  because  I  believe —  But  tell  me  first, 
did  the  letter  I  returned  by  Monsieur  Vignolles  have 
aught  to  do  with  your  disgrace  ?  " 

The  Sieur  Giraud  looked  at  her  earnestly.  No,  she 
was  not  playing  with  him. 

"  It  was  the  beginning  of  things,"  he  answered. 

"  Then  would  I  save  you  if  I  may,  despite  your  try- 
ing to  run  me  to  earth." 

"And  why,  Marcelle?"  he  asked  involuntarily. 

"  Because — because  of  that  other  with  whose  affairs 
I  ne'er  should  have  meddled,"  she  said,  and  her  eyes  fell 
before  his  fixed  gaze. 

As  for  the  Sieur  Giraud,  the  thought  of  death  was 
already  less  attractive  to  him  as  she  spoke.  In  truth, 
there  was  much  good  remaining  in  the  world  since  this 
wild  girl  could  cherish  such  thoughts. 

"  Marcelle,  you  are  not  of  these  people  ?  "  he  said 
suddenly,  and  for  an  instant  he  noted  the  colour  fly  from 
her  face  at  his  gesture  toward  the  others. 

"  That  I  am  their  leader,  Marcelle  the  Mad,  is  suffi- 
cient answer  to  that,"  she  made  reply.  "  But  come ; 
Sieur  Giraud,  'tis  no  time  for  aught  save  what  concerns 
you.  There  is  one  way  I  can  save  your  life,  I  believe. 
You  must  swear  to  become  one  of  us." 

61 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


He  drew  himself  up  proudly.  He,  the  Sieur  Giraud 
d'Orson,  a  member  of  this  ragged  band,  with  the  stamp 
of  outlawry  deep  upon  him  and  all  men's  hands  turned 
against  his  own!  And  then  he  laughed  harshly,  and  his 
hands  relaxed  their  tense  grip  on  his  sword  hilt.  In 
truth,  were  not  all  men's  hands  turned  against  his  as  it 
was?  'Twas  a  short  step  from  what  he  had  become  to 
what  Marcelle  suggested.  But  did  he  truly  care  to  live? 
— that  was  the  vital  question. 

"  You  have  commanded  a  body  of  men-at-arms/' 
said  Marcelle.  "  You  would  be  useful  to  us,  Sieur 
Giraud,  in  the  (defence  of  Dinant  when  the  time 
comes." 

"  Against  Count  Charles  ?  "  he  said  moodily. 

"  Ay ;  but  what  of  that.  Are  you  so  greatly  in  his 
debt?" 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  the  account  is  settled ;  yet  ne'er 
will  I  oppose  him." 

She  looked  curiously  at  him. 

"  Your  letter  breathed  a  devotion  scarce  evident  in 
your  manner  now,  Sieur  Giraud.  Methinks  the  Lady 
Agathe  might  find  cause  for  murmur  at  your  accepting 
death  on  the  first  reverse." 

"That  also  is  forever  closed,  Marcelle,"  he  re- 
plied. 

"  You  are  fortunate  in  being  able  to  look  so  far  into 
the  future,"  she  said  drily  enough.  "  But  come ;  I  have 
made  you  the  offer.  I  know  not  whether  I  may  fulfil 
it  or  not ;  but  choose,  Sieur  Giraud,  choose !  " 

Her  words  as  to  the  future  had  brought  hope  into 
his  heart  again.  Perchance  the  Lady  Agathe — oh!  a 
thousand  things  might  happen.  As  for  fighting  against 
Count  Charles,  that  he  would  not  do;  but  that  question 

would  come  later.     For  the  present 

62 


COMPANIONS  OF  THE   GREEN   TENT 

"  Marcelle,  I  accept  my  life  at  your  hands.  I  will 
become  a  Companion  of  the  Green  Tent,"  he  cried 
hoarsely. 

Her  eyes  rested  on  his  a  moment,  and,  seemingly 
satisfied  with  what  she  saw,  she  turned  and  beckoned 
the  men  to  approach.  As  she  did  so  Poncet  and  his 
scouting  band  also  crept  into  the  circle. 

"  Comrades,"  said  Marcelle,  with  no  waver  in  her 
voice,  "  it  has  occurred  to  me  that  this  man,  could  he 
be  persuaded,  would  be  useful  to  us.  He  is  trained  to 
arms  as  none  of  the  rest  of  you  are.  I  have  offered  him 
his  life  in  case  he  joins  us  as  the  lowest  one  among  you, 
and  he  accepts.  What  say  you  ?  " 

A  moment  they  stood  silent.  Then  Crepin  dashed 
his  cap  to  the  ground  in  a  rage. 

"  So  that  was  the  last  word  with  this  Sieur  Giraud, 
was  it  ? "  he  shouted.  "  And  because  he  mouths  his 
words  better  than  the  rest  of  us  and  carries  more  of  the 
court  air  about  him,  you'd  save  his  life,  Marcelle?  For 
one,  I'll  have  none  of  it,  nor  methinks  will  any  comrade 
here.  The  man  has  fought  against  us — against  you, 
Marcelle " 

"  That  concerns  me ;  not  any  of  the  rest  of  you,"  said 
Marcelle  sharply.  "  Who  is  leader  here,  Crepin  Brune, 
you  or  I  ?  Who  is  it  that  sees  you  have  share  and  share 
alike?  Is  it  you,  Andre,  who  seem  so  ready  to  slap 
Crepin  on  the  back?  Was  it  Moise  there,  shouting  so 
loud  a  moment  ago  for  this  man's  life,  who  nursed  you 
through  the  fever,  Tite  ?  Why,  Tite,  Tite,  what  are  you 
thinking  of,  you  ?  " 

"  By  God,  I  was  off  my  head,  Marcelle ! "  cried  Tite, 
and  with  a  bound  was  at  her  side,  and  she  rested  her 
hand  lightly  on  his  shoulder. 

And  following  Tite,  Andre  and  Poncet  took  place 
63 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


by  her  side.  Yet  the  main  body  held  aloof  behind 
Crepin. 

Marcelle  changed  her  voice  and  manner. 

"  So  be  it,  comrades !  You  have  decided  against  me. 
Ne'er  before  has  such  occasion  arisen  and  ne'er  shall  it 
again,  for  you  have  chosen  between  Crepin  Brune  and 
Marcelle  and  given  him  the  preference.  Adieu,  com- 
rades ;  I  have  tried  to  be  just  with  you  all,  and  when  my 
word  is  disputed,  I  may  no  longer  remain !  " 

She  walked  slowly  away  from  them  with  never  a 
glance  back.  The  Sieur  Giraud  thought  that  ne'er  had 
he  seen  such  acting.  He  slipped  his  sword  free,  for  now 
he  had  no  intention  of  being  butchered;  but  the  band 
were  paying  him  no  heed.  Instead,  with  one  accord, 
they  flung  themselves  after  Marcelle  with  a  great  cry,  so 
that  she  turned  and  retraced  her  steps.  Crepin  alone 
held  back  sullenly. 

"  Then  the  Sieur  Giraud  lives  and  becomes  one  of 
us?"  she  said  sternly. 

"Ay;  only  so  be  it  you  remain,  Marcelle.  If  you 
say  so,  we'll  have  the  devil  himself  for  companion,"  re- 
plied Tite,  and  the  rest  shouted  assent. 

She  smiled  once  more  in  their  faces. 

"  What  power  the  girl  wielded  over  this  rabble !  " 
thought  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  Then  do  you,  Tite,  see  to  the  Sieur  Giraud's  wants 
as  regards  dress,"  she  said.  "  I  will  see  that  he  is  duly 
sworn  as  a  Companion,  and " 

Her  speech  ended  in  a  shriek  of  horror,  and  she 
pointed  a  trembling  finger  before  her.  One  of  the  dogs 
of  the  camp  had  run  between  the  legs  of  Crepin,  upset- 
ting him  in  a  cursing  heap.  Ere  the  dog  might  recover, 
Crepin  had  seized  him  and,  drawing  his  knife,  had 
slashed  savagely  at  the  poor  brute's  leg,  so  that  it  now 

64 


COMPANIONS  OF   THE   GREEN   TENT 

hung  helpless  and  limp.  The  cry  of  the  wounded  beast 
and  Marcelle's  shriek  were  simultaneous.  The  whole 
thing  had  occurred  in  an  instant. 

For  a  second  the  Sieur  Giraud  saw  Marcelle  sway 
as  though  about  to  fall.  The  next,  she  had  drawn  her- 
self up  and  a  terrible  rage  was  in  her  eyes,  while  her 
face  had  gone  dead  white. 

"  Seize  that  man !  " 

This  time  there  was  no  question  of  obeying  her,  and 
a  dozen  hands  dragged  Crepin  to  his  feet. 

"  Crepin  Brune,"  she  cried,  "  scarce  a  month  has  gone 
by  since  I  read  you  such  lesson  as  methought  no  man 
could  forget."  A  moment  she  turned  to  the  others.  "  No 
matter  why  it  was  needful ;  that  concerns  me  alone.  But 
you  lack  all  that  goes  to  the  making  of  a  man,  Crepin, 
and,  because  'tis  so,  you  shall  have  such  treatment  as  is 
fitting  for  the  brute  you  are.  A  moment  ago  you  set 
yourself  against  my  will.  That  I  would  have  passed 
over ;  but  for  the  blow  you  have  just  struck,  for  the  suf- 
fering of  that  harmless  beast,  you  shall  pay  with  your 
own  blood." 

She  whirled  upon  the  others,  and  her  eyes  fairly 
blazed. 

"  To  the  tree  with  him,  and  a  score  lashes  laid  on  by 
you,  Andre  Vaucler,  with  all  the  strength  of  your  arm !  " 
she  cried. 

Crepin  shrieked  for  mercy,  and  fell  to  his  knees 
before  her. 

"  Away  with  him ;  I  have  spoken ! "  she  said  coldly. 

A  moment  later  the  wretch  was  bound  fast  to  a  tree, 
his  back  bared  for  the  lash.  His  clamorous  wails  rent 
the  air;  yet  Marcelle  stood  unmoved  and  watched  till 
they  had  released  him  to  fall  in  a  moaning,  bleeding 
heap.  Then  she  spoke  as  though  content. 

65 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  Tite,  do  what  you  may  for  the  dog.  As  for  you, 
Sieur  Giraud,  the  sooner  your  oath  is  taken  the  better 
it  will  be  for  you." 

And  drawing  him  a  little  to  one  side,  she  made  him 
repeat  after  her  a  solemn  pledge  to  support  the  Com- 
panions of  the  Green  Tent  till  such  time  as  she  should 
grant  him  release.  Also  she  would  have  sworn  him  to 
wage  war  to  the  death  against  the  Count  de  Charolais ; 
but  this  the  Sieur  Giraud  flatly  refused  to  do,  and  after 
a  time  she  forebore  further  urging. 

Tite  coming  up  as  she  ended,  she  turned  and,  leaving 
the  Sieur  Giraud  in  his  hands,  slowly  walked  toward  the 
hillside,  where  she  and  the  other  women  had  quarters. 

As  the  Sieur  Giraud  followed  Tite  in  the  opposite 
direction,  it  occurred  to  him  that  within  the  hour  a  very 
considerable  change  had  come  over  his  prospects.  Was 
this  change  for  good  or  evil?  Despite  the  fact  that  his 
life  had  been  spared,  he  could  find  no  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion, for  the  screams  of  the  man  Crepin  Brune  still  rang 
in  his  ears. 


66 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  LADY  AGATHE 

ON  the  crest  of  one  of  the  loftiest  ridges  of  the 
forest  the  Sieur  Giraud  lay  sprawled,  with  an 
air  that  seemed  to  betoken  complete  freedom 
from  worldly  concern.  Before  him  fell  the 
sheer  wall  of  a  barren  ravine,  scarred  and  torn  by  rough 
excrescences  of  slate  and  black  marble,  and  affording 
scant  root-hold  to  the  few  scrubby  pines  that  clung  des- 
perately to  its  surface.  Above  the  opposing  side  of  the 
gorge  and  far  away  he  could  trace  the  silver  line  mark- 
ing the  course  of  the  Meuse  and  catch  the  sun's  dull 
reflection  from  the  leaden  roofs  of  Dinant  and  Bou- 
vignes.  Such  was  the  post  they  had  allotted  him,  these 
wanderers  of  the  hills.  Upon  other  favoured  heights 
were  many  more  watchful  eyes,  and  small  indeed  must 
be  that  moving  object  which  should  avoid  their  scrutiny. 
It  is  even  probable  that  Count  Charles,  had  he 
chanced  upon  the  Sieur  Giraud  at  the  moment,  would 
have  passed  him  by  unrecognised,  so  great  the  change 
that  had  been  wrought  in  his  appearance.  He  had  pre- 
served his  own  attire,  it  was  true,  so  far  as  hose  and 
jerkin  went;  but  the  gorgeous  mantle  and  studded  brig- 
antine  were  gone,  and  in  place  of  the  great  spurred 
boots  he  wore  the  thongs  of  deerskin  common  to  the 
band.  His  own  crimson  cap,  with  its  jewelled  rim,  was 
replaced  by  a  turbanlike  headpiece  of  sombre  hue,  the 
scarf  of  which  fell  upon  his  shoulder.  This  last  Tite 

6? 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


had  growlingly  insisted  on,  and  in  its  folds  was  thrust 
the  green  emblem  of  the  Companions.  Yet  the  man's 
face  had  changed  in  no  way,  since  by  some  artful  means, 
and  perchance  by  reason  of  a  returning  pride,  he  had 
managed  to  keep  back  the  beard  that  thrived  so  with 
the  others.  The  close  growth  upon  his  upper  lip  stood 
out  the  more  boldly  in  consequence.  By  his  side  lay  the 
bow,  which  had  displaced  his  sword,  and  the  bundle  of 
arrows  he  had  plucked  from  his  belt  on  lying  down. 

But  the  Sieur  Giraud's  easy  attitude  of  nonchalance 
was  in  no  way  reflective  of  the  man's  mind.  In  truth, 
once  more  he  had  come  to  look  on  life  as  worth  living, 
yet  the  role  of  outlaw  he  had  been  forced  to  adopt 
weighed  heavily  upon  him.  His  new  associates,  save  for 
Marcelle  and  perchance  Tite,  had  filled  him  with  an 
aversion  he  had  been  unable  to  conceal  during  the  week 
that  had  passed  since  his  joining  them.  As  for  Mar- 
celle, he  had  acknowledged  his  inability  to  know  her. 
She  was  comparable  to  no  woman  he  had  ever  seen;  a 
child  of  whim  and  fancies,  yet,  in  truth,  no  child  in  the 
iron  rule  she  held  over  the  wretches  who  submitted  to 
her.  He  had  seen  her  stand  unmoved  while  the  blood 
poured  from  Crepin's  back  and  his  piteous  cries  rung  in 
her  ears;  yet  she  had  gone  pale  with  horror  and  tears 
had  sprung  to  her  eyes  at  sight  of  a  dog's  misery.  For 
an  instant  he  had  caught  sight  of  the  heart  back  of  the 
cold,  implacable  exterior. 

Then  why  had  she  so  stepped  in  to  save  him?  He 
fancied  'twas  not  for  the  reason  she  gave,  since  she 
could  have  no  real  knowledge  of  the  Lady  Agathe;  and 
if  any  one  thing  could  be  said  to  dominate  her,  it  was 
her  hatred  of  the  Count  de  Charolais  and  the  whole 
House  of  Burgundy.  Nor,  as  he  had  hinted  to  her,  was 
she  of  these  people,  these  refugees  of  Dinant.  He  had 

68 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  LADY  AGATHE 

seen  it  in  a  hundred  ways ;  her  talk,  her  bearing,  and  the 
deference,  beyond  that  due  a  mere  outlaw  chief,  shown 
her  by  all.  Whence  came  this  strange  creature  ?  Whence 
emanated  this  implicit  confidence?  None  volunteered  a 
word  thereon,  and  his  footing  with  the  band  was  not 
strong  enough  to  warrant  much  questioning.  During 
the  week  he  had  been  with  the  Companions  Marcelle 
often  had  been  absent,  and  he  had  heard  that  she  had 
gone  to  Dinant,  but  on  what  errands  he  knew  naught. 
He  believed  that  there  were  few  even  among  her  own 
band  in  whom  she  confided. 

And  then  the  thoughts  of  the  Sieur  Giraud  turned 
to  the  Lady  Agathe,  and  his  gaze  flew  northward  over 
the  wooded  country.  Ay,  yonder,  yonder,  forever  be- 
yond his  reach,  there  was  all  that  he  had  left  behind 
him — there  the  perished  hopes  he  had  once  been  mad 
enough  to  hold.  Monsieur  Vignolles,  willing  or  no, 
would  wed  the  Lady  Agathe — and  then  he  started,  for 
he  remembered  that  'twas  on  the  morrow  she  was  to 
begin  her  journey  to  Bruges. 

He  buried  his  face  in  the  cool  moss  beneath  him, 
and  a  sound,  half  groan,  half  curse,  escaped  his  lips. 

"  Then  why  do  you  remain,  Sieur  Giraud  ?  The 
woods  of  the  Ardennes  are  free  for  all.  Why  do  you 
stay?" 

He  raised  his  head  quickly,  and  there  was  Marcelle. 
She  had  come  up  the  steep  behind  him  with  the  silent 
tread  of  a  fawn,  and  now  paused,  leaning  upon  the 
oaken  stick  that  had  aided  her  ascent.  Her  lips  were 
slightly  parted  and  her  bosom  rose  and  fell  quickly  from 
her  exertion,  while  the  grace  of  her  attitude  and  the  sug- 
gested outlines  of  her  figure  served  for  a  moment  to  hold 
the  Sieur  Giraud  in  silent  contemplation. 

"  Why  do  you  stay,  Sieur  Giraud  ?  "  she  repeated. 
69 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


He  assumed  no  pretence  of  not  understanding. 
Strong  men  are  not  given  to  passionate  outbursts  with- 
out cause.  She  had  heard  and  divined. 

"  Why  do  I  stay,  Marcelle  ?  Because  I  am  chained ; 
chained,  as  you  know,  to  this  life.  You  at  least  should 
not  ask  such  question,"  he  said  in  bitter  voice. 

She  made  no  reply  and  he  went  on: 

"  Ay,  chained  I  am,  and  the  links  are  double  welded, 
since  I  am  held  to  this  accursed  existence  by  my  own 
word.  At  times  I  ask  myself  if  it  would  not  have  been 
better " 

She  cut  in  shortly. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know.  And  the  answer  is,  Sieur 
Giraud?" 

"  That  what  you  did  was  for  the  best,  Marcelle," 
he  answered. 

"  You  are  glad  to  live,  yet  unwilling  to  pay  the 
price,"  she  said  after  a  moment. 

"  Some  things  may  be  bought  too  dearly,  Marcelle, 
and  to  herd  one's  self  with  such  a  rabble " 

"  Ay,  rabble  it  is,  in  truth,  Sieur  Giraud,  though  you 
are  bold  to  throw  such  words  in  my  face,"  she  cried. 
"  But  tell  me,  what  has  made  these  men  what  they  are  ? 
What  has  driven  them  from  Dinant  yonder;  from  the 
peaceful  trades  they  practised  but  twelve  months  agone  ? 
Do  men  such  as  these  put  a  price  on  their  heads  for 
naught  ? 

"  They  seem  well  enough  content  with  vagabond- 
age," said  the  Sieur  Giraud  in  a  tone  savouring  of  the 
sneer. 

"  Bah ;  you  cannot  see  beneath  the  surface !  "  cried 
Marcelle.  "  You  are  of  the  north  and  understand  not 
these  people,  and,  besides,  have  been  of  the  very  party 
which  has  brought  them  to  such  case.  You  may  not 

70 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  LADY  AGATHE 

see  beyond  the  wall  of  desperate  outlawry  these  men 
have  built  about  them,  but  I  know;  I  have  seen  what 
they  have  suffered  since  the  coming  of  this  Louis  de 
Bourbon  as  bishop.  And  what  I  have  not  seen  they 
have  told  me;  and  we  are  but  a  handful  among  the 
thousands  roaming  these  hills." 

She  spoke  with  an  earnestness  that  was  compelling, 
and  the  Sieur  Giraud  caught  some  of  her  spirit;  yet  his 
conception  of  these  freebooters  was  too  strong  to  be 
shaken. 

"  My  Lord  the  Bishop  has  long  since  betaken  himself 
to  Huy,"  he  said.  "  If  the  people  deemed  themselves 
oppressed,  there  were  the  echevins,  the  judges." 

"  You  have  well  learned  the  Burgundian  chant,  Sieur 
Giraud,"  said  Marcelle  impatiently.  "  Law  ?  You  would 
speak  of  law  anywhere  in  this  whole  province  of  Liege ! 
There  is  no  law  save  through  the  Pope,  the  bishop,  and 
back  of  the  bishop,  the  Duke  of  Burgundy.  But  always, 
always  the  Church.  When  the  people  opposed  the  profli- 
gacies of  Louis  de  Bourbon,  when  they  invoked  the  law 
to  stay  a  taxation  that  was  rendering  them  paupers,  the 
wand  of  office  was  lowered  in  the  mayor's  hand  by  order 
of  the  bishop,  and  the  doors  of  the  court  slammed  in 
their  faces.  And  then,  when  in  desperation  they  had 
risen  and  driven  this  youth  and  his  shameless  retinue 
from  their  midst,  then  the  Pope  scourged  them  with 
interdict  and  excommunication.  You  who  prate  of  jus- 
tice, do  you  know  what  that  meant  to  these  people?  " 

The  Sieur  Giraud  crossed  himself  hastily.  Ay,  well 
enough  did  he  know  what  this  interdict  had  meant; 
church  doors  closed  to  all  comers,  ominous  silence  in 
the  belfries,  and  no  sacramental  service  for  any.  For 
the  new-born  child  there  might  be  no  baptism;  the 
guilty  must  rest  unconfessed ;  the  betrothed,  unwed ;  no 

71 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


unction  might  salve  the  dying  nor  priestly  blessing  mark 
their  grave  when  dead. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  shuddered,  and  Marcelle  noted  it. 
When  she  again  spoke  'twas  in  gentler  tone  and  as 
though  he  had  been  convinced. 

"  And  this  is  why  I  love  these  people ;  because  of 
what  they  have  endured.  What  they  are  now  is  what 
they  have  been  driven  to  become." 

There  was  moisture  in  her  great,  dark  eyes,  and  their 
look  was  far  away  toward  Dinant.  The  Sieur  Giraud 
plucked  restlessly  at  the  moss  beside  him. 

"  I  have  heard  but  the  one  side  before,  Marcelle," 
he  said  slowly.  "  I  confess  your  tale  has  impressed  me 
greatly,  but  there  will  be  a  sad  day  of  reckoning. 
Neither  Monseigneur  the  Duke  nor  Count  Charles  will 
suffer  this  state  of  open  revolt  to  continue.  The  province 
of  Liege  and  Dinant  in  particular  are  marked  for  venge- 
ance." 

"  That  we  know  and  can  but  do  our  utmost,"  she 
answered.  "  You  call  yourself  a  man,  Sieur  Giraud. 
Would  you  have  done  otherwise  than  the  Companions 
have  done?  Would  you  have  submitted  to  being  ground 
under  the  heel  of  this  Louis  de  Bourbon  ?  " 

"No!" 

His  answer  was  prompt  enough,  and  she  ventured  a 
step  farther,  while  her  voice  hardened. 

"  And  you  would  hate  the  Count  de  Charolais  who 
marches  against  us,  even  to  conspiring  against  his  very 
life,  and ?" 

"Marcelle!" 

He  had  risen  quickly  to  his  elbow,  and  his  eyes  met 
hers  with  an  angry  gleam  in  them  she  had  never  seen 
there  before.  It  was  as  though  a  challenge  had  been 
hurled,  and  the  gaze  of  both  was  firm. 

72 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  LADY  AGATHE 

"  Marcelle,  you  have  been  rightly  named ;  you  do, 
in  truth,  speak  madness,"  he  said,  "  or  else  your  griev- 
ance against  Count  Charles  is  greater  than  I  believe. 
Until  a  week  ago  Count  Charles  was  my  good  lord  and 
master,  and  whatever  has  happened  I  forget  not  that. 
You  speak  of  but  one  thing — assassination — foul  murder 
— the  thrust  of  a  knife  in  the  dark,  or  the  flight  of  a 
silent  shaft  from  a  thicket — and  you  speak  of  this  to  me 
as  though  I  might  entertain  such  thought." 

"  I  said,  were  you  in  our  position,"  she  cried. 

"  Ay,  you  said  that ;  but  you  thought  to  entice  assent 
from  me.  'Twas  in  your  eyes,  and  is  there  still,"  he 
made  answer.  "  God's  truth !  Did  you  think  to  have 
dragged  me  down  to  that?  Seek  what  you  look  for 
among  the  others.  Andre,  Poncet,  Crepin;  I'd  believe 
it  of  any  of  them,  but  I  looked  for  it  not  from  you, 
Marcelle." 

This  time  her  eyes  gave  up  the  strife,  and  for  a  brief 
space  wandered  from  his.  She  realised  keenly  that  her 
stroke  had  failed;  had  been  too  bold,  and,  as  she  now 
saw,  premature  at  best. 

"  You  leap  too  quickly,  Sieur  Giraud ;  I  said  naught 
of  assassination.  Surely  to  conspire  against  the  life  of 
an  enemy  may  not  mean  murder,"  she  said. 

"  Yet  that  was  your  meaning,  Marcelle ;  of  that  I'll 
be  sworn !  "  he  replied.  "  I  had  begun  to  believe  there 
might  be  something  in  the  cause  you  fight,  but  you  have 
undone  all  that,  and  I  warn  you  that  in  this  thing  my 
hand  will  be  set  against  you.  You  have  bought  my  life, 
and  'tis  yours  for  a  word,  I  know ;  but  have  a  care  how 
you  use  the  purchase,  Marcelle." 

She  tossed  her  head,  and  the  Sieur  Giraud  could  but 
lament  inwardly  that  such  beauty  should  harbour  these 
mad  impulses. 

73 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  Since  you  persist  in  the  delusion,  Sieur  Giraud,  be 
it  so,"  she  said.  "  The  facts  will  appear  in  due  time. 
In  truth,  the  Burgundian  Court  laid  heavy  tribute  on 
your  loyalty,  but  then " 

He  waited  for  the  conclusion  of  her  sentence,  but 
her  eyes  were  directed  toward  the  north  and  she  seemed 
unaware  of  the  omission. 

"  But  then  ?  "  he  asked. 

Her  weight  drove  the  staff  on  which  she  leaned  deep 
into  the  soft  upper  soil. 

"  But  then  I  was  well-nigh  forgetting  the  Lady 
Agathe,"  she  said  quietly. 

And  at  that  he  started,  for,  in  truth,  he  himself  had 
had  no  thought  of  the  Lady  Agathe  since  Marcelle  had 
first  come  up.  He  made  no  reply,  but  his  gaze  followed 
her  own.  In  a  moment  she  drew  the  staff  from  the 
ground  and,  coming  nearer  the  edge  of  the  ravine,  seated 
herself  on  a  great  block  of  black  marble  that  threatened 
to  topple  over  at  any  moment.  Then  she  said  pensively : 

"Ay,  I  had  nigh  forgot  the  Lady  Agathe,  yet  has 
she  been  much  on  my  mind  since  I  first  chanced  upon 
her  name." 

To  the  Sieur  Giraud  there  was  much  that  displeased 
him  in  hearing  the  Lady  Agathe's  name  on  the  lips  of 
this  girl,  in  view  of  what  he  had  divined  as  to  her  plot- 
ting against  Count  Charles's  life.  Yet  he  scarce  knew 
how  to  make  this  evident.  As  for  Marcelle,  she  con- 
tinued in  the  same  musing  tone: 

"  In  truth,  I  marvel  not  that  this  life  is  irksome,  Sieur 
Giraud;  yet  is  the  world  large  and  Fate  full  of  caprice. 
The  paths  of  the  Lady  Agathe  and  yourself  may  again 
meet." 

So  had  she  spoken  that  first  night  he  had  come  upon 
them.  Now  he  smiled  bitterly  to  think  how,  for  the 

74 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  LADY  AGATHE 

time,  he  had  been  heartened  by  such  words.  Marcelle 
regarded  him  closely,  her  elbow  on  knee  and  her  chin 
resting  on  hand. 

"  Enough,  Marcelle !  "  he  said  shortly.  "  If  you 
came  here  to  torture  me  with  thoughts  of  this  odious 
oath  I  have  taken,  you  have  succeeded.  But  I  will  not 
speak  of  my  Lady  Agathe  with  such  as  you." 

He  spoke  scathingly,  and  the  words  cut  deep  into  the 
girl's  heart.  With  a  bound  she  was  on  her  feet  and  had 
raised  her  staff  so  threateningly  that  he  threw  up  an  arm 
involuntarily  to  ward  off  the  blow.  But  it  never  de- 
scended, and  in  place  of  the  mad  outburst  he  expected, 
she  only  laughed  harshly  and  lowered  the  weapon. 

"  You  speak  aright,  Sieur  Giraud,"  she  said  hoarsely. 
"  The  Lady  Agathe's  name  must  not  be  defiled  by  the 
lips  of  Marcelle  the  Mad.  Ay,  you  speak  aright.  We 
are  of  different  worlds,  she  and  I ;  her  life,  one  of  luxury 
and  contentment;  mine,  of  privation  and  anxiety." 

She  turned  and  with  her  staff  thrust  a  small  stone 
into  the  ravine  and  seemed  intent  only  on  its  fall.  There 
was  such  bitterness,  such  sadness  in  her  words  that  the 
Sieur  Giraud  rose  quickly  and,  going  to  her  side,  placed 
his  hand  upon  her  shoulder.  She  trembled ;  and  her 
head  remained  bent,  so  that  he  might  not  see  her  face 
through  the  tumbled  hair. 

"  Forgive  me,  Marcelle,  for  my  words  were  harsher 
than  I  had  meant,"  he  said  kindly,  and,  as  he  spoke,  it 
again  bore  upon  his  mind  that  this  girl  had  saved  his 
life.  He  thought  that  even  the  Lady  Agathe  would 
wish  him  to  be  gentle  with  her.  "  Forgive  and  forget 
the  words,  Marcelle,"  he  continued.  "  In  any  event, 
'twill  be  no  long  matter,  for  with  the  morrow  the  Lady 
Agathe  passes  forever  out  of  my  life." 

She  looked  up  at  him  quickly. 
6  75 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  I  do  not  understand,"  she  said. 

And  then,  throwing  aside  all  reserve,  he  was  impelled 
to  tell  her  all ;  how  his  regard  for  the  lady  had  led  to  his 
ruin;  how  the  constable  had  gained  her  hand  for  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles,  and  how,  on  the  morrow,  she  was  to 
be  sent  to  Bruges,  there  to  await  her  marriage  on  the 
return  of  Count  Charles  and  the  court.  And  as  he  spoke 
there  was  a  strange  play  of  light  on  her  features,  though 
she  said  not  a  word  till  he  had  ended. 

"  And  once  at  Bruges  there  would  be  no  hope  of 
escape  for  the  Lady  Agathe;  no  chance  such  as  that 
which  failed  at  Namur  ?  "  she  asked  at  length. 

"  Not  the  least,"  he  replied.  "  Make  no  doubt  of 
Count  Charles's  care  of  that,  now  he  knows  of  that 
attempt." 

"And  who  was  it,  think  you,  informed  him  of  the 
plan?" 

"  I  know  not,  Marcelle,"  he  said,  "  nor  how  'twas 
learned;  but  I'll  be  sworn  the  Count  de  St.  Pol  could 
tell.  There  are  many  eyes  and  ears  in  his  service,  and 
'twas  to  his  benefit,  this  exposure." 

Marcelle  nodded  thoughtfully  and  turned  away,  and 
for  a  long  time  no  word  passed  between  them.  In  his 
mind  was  the  chafing  rage  and  chagrin  he  felt  in  his 
helplessness;  in  hers,  a  confusion  of  ideas  ran  riot.  She 
had  liked  this  man  when  first  she  had  seen  him  stand 
before  her,  utterly  indifferent  to  the  death  which  threat- 
ened him.  It  was  not  what  she  had  learned  to  expect 
in  those  brought  before  her,  and  his  unconcern  had 
exasperated  her  in  that  she  was  unable  to  break  it  down. 
Yet  she  told  herself  that  if  the  man  had  weakened  she 
would  have  allowed  Crepin  and  the  rest  their  way. 
Her  determination  to  save  him  had  been  only  a  sudden 
freak  roused  in  her  mind  by  something  in  his  manner 

76 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  LADY  AGATHE 

that  was  compelling.  Having  once  taken  the  stand,  her 
very  pride  of  command  had  sufficed  in  the  subsequent 
brawl. 

And  she  had  not  been  sorry  that  she  had  won.  In 
the  week  he  had  been  with  them  the  Sieur  Giraud,  while 
showing  no  liking  for  it,  had  done  the  work  of  a  Com- 
panion patiently  enough.  She  had  scarce  spoken  to  him, 
but  had  watched  him  closely  to  see  if  he  would  justify 
her  opinion  of  his  value  to  the  band.  Even  Tite,  at  first 
inclined  to  question,  had  admitted  the  Sieur  Giraud's 
worth.  This  was  after  the  latter  had  seen  from  his  post 
the  approach  of  a  strong  party  from  Bouvignes  and  given 
warning  thereof  in  time  for  the  Companions  to  scatter 
through  the  forest  and  avoid  being  surrounded. 

Yet  Marcelle  had  known  no  peace  of  mind  since  his 
coming.  Her  liking  for  him  had  grown  as  she  had  noted 
his  calm  submission  to  his  lot  and  his  faith  to  the  oath 
he  had  taken;  but  there  was  ever  the  shadow  of  that 
other,  the  Lady  Agathe,  hanging  like  a  darkening  cloud 
over  the  man's  spirit,  and  this  had  nettled  her.  What 
the  feelings  were  she  had  for  the  Sieur  Giraud;  why 
this  new  and  strange  emotion  which  she  was  conscious 
of  in  his  presence,  she  knew  not.  She  had  struggled 
with  them  by  day  and  by  night ;  they  had  caused  her 
to  toss  uneasily  on  her  couch  of  pine-boughs. 

To-day  she  had  resolved  to  end  the  uncertainty,  and 
so  had  sought  out  the  Sieur  Giraud  at  his  post  on  the 
hills. 

He  had  spoken  sneeringly  of  the  Companions,  her 
followers;  yet  she  had  endured  it  from  him,  contenting 
herself  with  trying  to  show  their  justification.  Then  he 
had — or  she  had,  she  remembered  not  which — let  fall  the 
name  of  the  Lady  Agathe.  Always  that  name  seemed 
to  come  up  between  them !  And  then  he  had  stabbed 

77 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


her  cruelly  at  heart.  She  had  raised  her  staff,  yet  struck 
not;  and  why?  The  next  moment  had  told  her;  when 
he  had  come  and  placed  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder — 
she  still  thrilled  with  the  memory  of  it — and  spoken  in 
that  kind  and  quiet  voice.  The  veil  had  been  lifted,  and 
the  great  wave  that  had  surged  over  her,  leaving  her  hot 
and  cold  by  turns,  ay,  that  had  been  Love.  Love !  She 
had  known  it,  and  the  very  ground  had  seemed  to  pulse 
beneath  her  in  the  joy  she  felt.  And  then  she  had  seen 
that  he  knew  it  not ;  that  his  thoughts  were  only  for  that 
other,  and  the  receding  wave  had  left  her  desolate  and 
with  a  bitter  hatred  in  her  heart.  Except  for  that  other, 
she  would  then  have  thrown  herself  into  his  arms.  It 
was  her  nature  so  to  do,  and  the  dictate  of  all  the  warm 
blood  coursing  through  her  veins.  She  could  have  made 
him  love  her.  But,  pitiless,  the  shadow  of  the  Lady 
Agathe  again  had  come  between. 

As  he  had  told  her  of  this  forced  marriage,  her  heart 
had  leaped  again  within  her  for  joy — a  joy  that  was  gone 
the  next  instant  in  the  look  of  distress  upon  his  face.  A 
blind  rage  against  all  the  world  had  risen  within  her, 
yet  she  could  not  bear  to  see  the  suffering  of  this  man 
she  loved,  and  had  turned  aside  her  head  to  shut  out 
the  sight. 

All  this  swept  like  a  torrent  through  Marcelle's  mind 
as  the  two  stood  in  such  silence.  Above  all  was  the 
thought  that  the  morrow  would  see  the  end  of  the  Lady 
Agathe,  so  far  as  concerned  him.  If  naught  hindered, 
by  nightfall  she  would  be  leagues  away  and  he  forbid 
the  land  to  which  she  went.  Would  the  Sieur  Giraud 
then  turn  to  her,  Marcelle  ?  Could  she  make  him  forget  ? 

She  looked  at  him,  and  a  soft  appeal  was  in  her  eyes ; 
but,  alas!  he  seemed  not  to  be  aware  of  her  presence, 
and  his  gaze  was  northward. 

78 


THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  LADY  AGATHE 

It  was  borne  upon  her  that  she  might  not  hope  for 
the  love  of  this  man,  and  the  blow  seemed  to  dry  the 
very  blood  within  her  and  leave  her  shrivelled  and  cold. 
No ;  it  was  impossible,  hopeless !  And  again  the  thought 
recurred  to  her  that  neither  might  that  other  enjoy  his 
love.  Ah !  He  might  strain  that  gaze  northward  along 
the  valley  of  the  Meuse ;  the  morrow  would  end  all  that, 
if  naught  hindered. 

If  naught  hindered! 

Again  that  phrase.  She  wondered  why  it  had  crept 
in,  and  then  suddenly  started  violently. 

From  behind  them  a  snatch  of  verse  in  a  high,  quaver- 
ing voice  fell  upon  their  ears,  and  they  turned  together. 
It  drew  nearer,  and  a  moment  later  Andre  Vaucler  came 
into  view  below,  making  his  way  upward  toward  them. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  smiled. 

"  It  is  Andre  coming  to  relieve  me,"  he  said ;  and 
then,  in  his  kindest  voice,  "  In  truth,  how  the  time  has 
flown,  though  perchance  all  our  speech  has  not  been  o'er- 
pleasing.  You  should  make  the  rounds  more  often, 
Marcelle." 

"You  have  liked  it?  You  are  glad  that  I  came?" 
she  said  softly,  yet  with  eagerness. 

"  Yes ;  I  am  glad  you  came,"  he  answered ;  "  com- 
panionship is  something,  and  sometimes  alone  here  on 
these  hills  I  dread  madness  when  I  think  of  what  I  have 
lost.  But  enough !  You  may  not  understand — you,  who 
have  never  felt  this." 

She  made  no  answer,  yet  she  knew  that  he  again 
spoke  of  the  Lady  Agathe,  and  his  tone  cut  her  with 
its  very  kindness.  He  believed  her  incapable  of  that 
emotion  he  felt.  Oh,  if  the  man  could  but  know ! 

He  spoke  lightly  as  he  picked  up  the  bow  and  thrust 
the  handful  of  arrows  within  his  belt. 

79 


MARCELLE  THE  MAD 


"  Yet  you  are  young,  Marcelle,  and  the  time  will 
come;  so  frown  not  that  way  lest  the  marks  remain  to 
turn  away  some  Andre,  or  Crepin,  or  Poncet,  who " 

A  wild  sob  burst  from  her  throat  and  her  eyes  were 
wet  with  tears  that  would  come. 

"  Sieur  Giraud,  I  hate  you ;  hate  you ! "  she  cried, 
and,  whirling  about,  fled  along  the  ridge  into  the  forest. 

He  stood  a  moment  looking  blankly  after  her;  then 
whistled  and,  without  a  word  to  Andre,  who  just  then 
came  over  the  rise,  strode  rapidly  down  the  hill. 


80 


CHAPTER  VI 

A    CHANGE    OF    ESCORT 

LITTLE  liberty  had  there  been  for  the  Lady 
Agathe  since  that  day  when  she  had  so  un- 
willingly ridden  forth  to  the  review.  Count 
Charles  had  seen  to  it  that  she  was  kept  close 
in  the  apartments  which  had  been  allotted  her,  yet  it 
was  fortunate  for  her  that  the  Countess  de  Laubec  had 
fallen  equally  under  his  displeasure,  for  by  that  she  was 
not  deprived  of  all  companionship.  Only  those  in  whom 
the  count  might  place  implicit  trust  were  placed  about 
her  as  attendants,  for,  once  having  been  warned  of  the 
extent  to  which  the  Lady  Agathe  would  go,  he  took  no 
chances  of  a  repetition  of  her  attempt  at  escape. 

For  the  first  day  or  two  she  had  spent  much  of  the 
time  in  the  arms  of  the  countess,  pouring  her  grief  into 
that  lady's  sympathetic  ear  and  alternately  vowing  that 
never  would  she  submit  to  this  marriage  to  Monsieur 
Vignolles,  and  beseeching  the  countess  for  some  sugges- 
tion, some  way  out  of  the  dilemma.  But  alas !  Willing 
as  the  latter  was  to  extend  every  assistance  to  her,  what 
could  she  do  save  shed  tears  the  faster  and  raise  her 
hands  helplessly  to  heaven?  Count  Charles  had  said 
that  it  should  be  so,  and  he  had  a  way  of  crushing  any 
or  all  who  dared  oppose  him. 

"  I  will  appeal  to  Monseigneur  the  Duke  when  he 
arrives ;  I  will  grovel  before  him  if  need  be !  "  had  cried 

the  Lady  Agathe.  "  Surely  he  never  will  force  me " 

81 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


But  the  countess  had  slain  that  hope  by  saying 
quickly : 

"  Let  not  your  faith  rest  in  that,  my  lady.  Mon- 
seigneur's  years  weigh  heavy  upon  him;  so  heavy  that 
methinks  his  mind  has  returned  to  that  of  a  child.  Did 
you  not  tell  me  yourself  of  his  overturning  the  table  at 
dinner  before  all  the  lords  and  ladies  because  some  one 
had  made  reference  to  his  age,  and  that  but  a  month 
agone?  Mark  you,  when  a  man  goes  to  such  extent, 
there  is  something  amiss  here."  She 'had  tapped  her 
forehead  suggestively. 

"  Yet  Monseigneur  ever  has  seemed  fond  of  me," 
the  Lady  Agathe  had  said.  "  I  will  believe  that  there 
is  hope  in  an  appeal  to  him." 

"And  I  would,  if  I  might,  my  lady,"  had  been  the 
answer ;  "  but  however  much  you  may  be  in  his  favour, 
forget  not  'tis  his  son,  the  Count  de  Charolais,  on  whom 
he  dotes.  By  my  faith,  'tis  Count  Charles  who  is  the  true 
Duke  of  Burgundy  now,  rather  than  Monseigneur." 

And  so  it  was,  as  the  Lady  Agathe  well  knew,  yet 
with  all  obstinacy  she  had  continued  to  argue  the  matter 
till  the  older  woman  had  fairly  fallen  asleep. 

After  these  first  outbursts,  however,  the  Lady  Agathe 
became  calmer,  and,  indeed,  as  the  days  went  by,  spoke 
less  and  less  of  her  troubles.  Yet  the  mention  of  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles's  name  always  would  serve  to  rouse  her 
to  a  passion.  Against  him  was  delivered  her  choicest 
invective,  and  upon  his  shoulders  she  threw  the  entire 
responsibility  for  her  plight.  Inasmuch  as  he  knew  it 
not,  this  did  not  materially  affect  the  gaiety  which  was 
habitual  with  him. 

The  Lady  Agathe  had  been  in  better  case  when  she 
gave  free  voice  to  the  feelings  within  her.  Now  that 
she  took  to  brooding  over  her  wrongs,  she  faded  visibly ; 

82 


A   CHANGE   OF   ESCORT 


and,  in  truth,  there  was  reason  enough  for  this,  since, 
besides  her  own  afflictions,  she  was  tormented  by  the 
thoughts  of  that  one  she  had  inflicted  upon  the  Sieur 
Giraud,  and  by  harassing  doubts  as  to  what  fate  had 
befallen  him.  She  was  not  sure  what  her  feelings  were 
toward  the  Sieur  Giraud,  but  she  knew  that  his  devotion 
to  her  was  great,  and  she  confessed  to  a  strange  leaping 
of  her  heart  when  he  had  so  nobly  agreed  to  aid  her 
plans.  Then,  too,  the  letter  she  had  read  before  Count 
Charles  and  the  constable  had  thrilled  her  with  its  words 
of  earnest  regard,  even  under  such  circumstances  as  those 
in  which  she  had  been  placed.  She  believed  that  had 
Count  Charles  and  the  constable  not  had  other  plans, 
she  must  have  yielded  to  the  plea  of  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

In  this  wise  the  time  passed  with  the  Lady  Agathe 
until  the  day  Monseigneur  arrived.  Her  windows  gave 
not  upon  the  street,  but  she  heard  the  blare  of  the  trum- 
pets, the  loud  shouting  and  the  tread  of  the  great  escort 
which  had  met  him  en  route,  and  knew  what  it  meant. 
It  was  then  high  noon,  and  she  waited  from  then  on  in 
frantic  suspense  for  the  summons  she  knew  would  come. 
The  day  was  nigh  spent,  however,  before  the  page  en- 
tered and  delivered  his  message.  Bidding  the  countess 
offer  a  prayer  for  her,  she  followed  him  from  the  room 
and  down  the  winding  stairs. 

The  duke  reclined  on  a  great  dais  heavily  embroid- 
ered in  gold,  and  above  his  white  head  drooped  a  gor- 
geous banner  emblazoned  with  the  Cross  of  St.  Andrew. 
He  had  borne  the  journey  by  litter  but  badly,  and  there 
was  little  colour  on  his  wrinkled  face  and  exhaustion  in 
his  very  attitude.  At  his  side  knelt  Count  Charles,  Mon- 
seigneur's  nearest  hand  being  upon  his  head  caressingly, 
and  at  the  foot  of  the  dais  stood  the  Constable  of  France. 
This  much  the  Lady  Agathe  might  see  ere  she  came  to 

83 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


her  knee,  and  awaited,  with  bowed  head,  Monseigneur's 
pleasure. 

He  spoke  quickly  enough,  but  his  voice  was  quaver- 
ing with  years  and  with  his  fatigued  state. 

"  Rise,  my  Lady  Agathe.  We  have  been  informed 
of  the  measures  which  my  Lord  Count  de  Charolais  and 
my  lord  constable  have  deemed  best  for  your  welfare." 

The  Lady  Agathe  rose  at  his  bidding  and  met  the 
look  his  dark  eyes  bent  upon  her  from  beneath  their 
shaggy  brows. 

"  Also  are  we  aware  of  the  disobedience  you  have 
displayed  or  attempted  to  display,"  the  duke  proceeded, 
his  tone  showing  his  irritation.  "  This  conduct  amazes 
us ;  we  should  not  have  looked  for  it  from  you,  my  Lady 
Agathe." 

After  a  moment's  pause  he  seemed  about  to  speak 
again,  but  whether  the  thought  of  what  he  would  say 
left  him,  or  whether  he  underwent  a  change  of  mind,  he 
merely  waved  his  hand  in  the  end,  and  said : 

"  You  may  speak,  my  lady." 

Both  the  Count  de  St.  Pol  and  Count  Charles  turned 
their  heads,  and  she  saw  naught  to  hearten  her  either  in 
the  former's  cynical  smile  or  the  latter's  challenging 
look.  Yet  she  spoke — not  with  any  boldness,  for  such 
would  have  been  folly — with  all  the  pent-up  wish  of  her 
heart  behind  the  words  she  uttered. 

"  Monseigneur  ever  has  been  just  and  kind  to  me, 
which  emboldens  me  to  voice  my  mind.  The  disposal 
which  my  lord  count  intends  making  of  me ;  the  marriage 
which  my  lord  constable  has  suggested  is  so  far  distaste- 
ful, so  far  hateful  to  me,  that  I  venture  to  appeal  to  Mon- 
seigneur against  its  fulfilment." 

The  duke  looked  at  her  sharply. 

"  And  why  this  distaste ;  why  this  hatred,  my  lady  ?  " 
84 


A   CHANGE   OF   ESCORT 


."  Monseigneur,  this  man  they  would  force  me  to  wed 
I — I  scarce  know,  save  by  sight." 

"  That  will  not  suffice  to  condemn  him,  for  we  have 
seen  Monsieur  Vignolles,  and  there  is  much  about  him 
to  please  any  lady,  we  find." 

"  I  spoke  not  because  of  his  manner  or  complexion, 
Monseigneur,"  she  said  hastily,  "  but  because,  for  aught 
I  know,  he  may  be  the  veriest  fool  or  knave  that  lives." 

The  duke  roused  angrily. 

"  Have  a  care,  my  Lady  Agathe.  You  seem  to  forget 
who  has  made  the  arrangement,"  he  cried  testily.  "  My 
Lord  Count  de  Charolais  would  scarce-  select  either  the 
fool  or  knave  for  you." 

The  words  of  the  Countess  de  Laubec  came  back  to 
her.  In  truth,  the  duke  was  well  under  Count  Charles's 
thumb,  as  she  had  said. 

"  Your  conduct  has  been  and  is  very  displeasing  to 
us,  my  Lady  Agathe,"  continued  the  duke.  "  My  Lord 
Count  de  Charolais  has  been  lenient  in  even  waiting  our 
approval  before  sending  you  to  Bruges.  As  for  your 
objections,  they  are  paltry.  Were  we  governed  by  wom- 
en's whims,  a  fine  pass  the  court  would  come  to,  for- 
sooth! You  protest  that  you  know  not  the  man.  So 
be  it  true ;  that  shall  be  remedied  for  you,  since  to-mor- 
row you  leave  for  Bruges  under  escort,  and  that  escort 
under  Monsieur  Vignolles." 

"  Monsieur  Vignolles !  "  she  gasped. 

"  'Tis  my  Lord  Count  de  St.  Pol's  suggestion,  and, 
as  it  happens,  an  excellent  one.  You  will  have  oppor- 
tunity of  making  the  acquaintance  of  your  future  lord 
en  route,"  said  the  duke,  and  added,  seeing  that  she  stood 
speechless  with  the  blow  he  had  delivered: 

"  You  may  withdraw,  my  Lady  Agathe.  We  have 
other  pressing  matters  awaiting  our  attention." 

85 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


Well  she  knew  the  futility  of  attempting  further 
speech  after  that.  Again  she  sunk  to  her  knee  before 
Monseigneur,  and  again  her  eye  met  the  smile  of  the 
constable.  Her  blood  ran  hot  within  her  with  rage  at 
this  man,  for  it  was  clear  to  her  that  all  the  duke  had 
said  was  his  doing.  To  insure  the  constable's  fidelity, 
Count  Charles  had  ordered  her  marriage,  lest,  offended, 
he  should  turn  his  loyalty  and  allegiance  to  the  King 
of  France.  She  shuddered  at  sight  of  the  constable's 
beaming  features  and  at  the  thought  that  she  was  be- 
come a  mere  shuttle-cock  in  affairs  of  state.  The  next 
moment  she  was  in  the  corridor  without. 

They  had  come  a  league  without  ever  a  word  between 
them,  yet  he  rode  at  her  side,  and  his  manner  was  easy 
enough.  They  had  passed  beyond  the  most  distant  out- 
post of  the  ever-increasing  army,  and  the  road  lay 
crooked  and  dusty  ahead  of  them ;  so  crooked  that  but 
short  stretches  of  it  were  visible  at  one  time,  and  so  dusty 
that  the  four  men-at-arms  who  brought  up  the  rear 
choked  and  coughed  and  swore  feelingly  under  their 
breaths.  Yet  there  was  promise  of  relief  from  this  last 
in  the  ominous  masses  of  inky  clouds  which  had  begun 
to  rear  their  heads  over  the  hill-tops. 

To  say  the  truth,  Monsieur  Vignolles  was  more  un- 
easy in  mind  than  his  bearing  would  have  suggested. 
This  duty  of  escorting  his  mate-to-be  to  Bruges  had 
galled  him  exceedingly  when  the  constable  had  informed 
him  of  it,  yet  he  had  submitted  with  seeming  willingness. 
Long  since  he  had  learned  the  futility  of  opposing  the 
constable's  will.  Therefore,  here  he  was,  a  league  on 
the  road  and  with  never  a  word  to  his  charge,  who  rode 
with  head  up  and  eyes  anywhere  but  where  he  might 
catch  them  with  his  own.  It  occurred  to  him  that  her 

86 


A   CHANGE   OF   ESCORT 


two  women-servants,  trundling  behind  in  a  cart,  were 
enjoying  the  journey  to  better  purpose  than  their  mis- 
tress, despite  the  jolting  they  sustained.  He  judged 
that  the  time  had  come  for  breaking  the  barrier  that 
separated  the  Lady  Agathe  and  himself,  for,  since  the 
thing  had  to  be,  he  argued  that  there  was  small  sense 
in  making  it  worse.  The  high  colour  in  the  Lady 
Agathe's  cheeks,  the  strands  of  golden  hair  that  curled 
about  her  temples,  the  long  lashes  that  half  hid  the  blue 
of  her  eyes — these  may  have  influenced  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles  to  speak  first,  or  they  may  have  had  nothing  to 
do  with  it.  Still,  he  was  but  a  young  and  exceedingly 
healthy  individual;  so  it  is  probable  that  these  trifles 
were  not  without  their  effect.  At  all  events,  he  did 
speak  first,  and  his  topic  was  that  which  it  ever  has 
been,  since  the  creation  of  man,  where  embarrassment 
clogs  free  discourse. 

"  We  shall  have  mud  in  place  of  this  dust  within  an 
hour's  time,  my  Lady  Agathe.  Did  you  see  the  flash 
pass  between  yonder  two  clouds  ?  " 

No  answer. 

He  hitched  in  the  saddle  and  tried  again. 

"  There's  a  saying  in  my  country  that  if  you  are 
quick  enough  to  seize  a  lady's  hand  during  a  lightning 
flash  she  is  bound  to  you  for  ever.  I  once  heard  of  a  man 
who  was  struck  dead  trying  to  discover  if  the  saying  was 
true,  and  just  as  he  was  about  to  grasp  the  lady's  hand. 
He  was  counted  a  lucky  man  by  those  who  knew  them 
both." 

No  answer,  but  a  perceptible  throwing  backward  of 
the  head. 

"  In  truth,  there  -is  no  doubt  that  he  was  fortunate, 
considering  what  he  escaped,"  continued  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles  musingly. 

87 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


This  time  the  Lady  Agathe  replied,  for  she  thought 
to  see  a  ray  of  hope,  yet  she  turned  not  her  head. 

"  The  man  was  favoured  because  he  escaped  wedding 
the  lady?" 

"  Ay ;  for  the  lady  afterward  did  away  with  four 
husbands,  one  after  another — killed  the  first  with  kind- 
ness, and  swore  never  to  practise  that  again;  second 
and  third  perished  of  the  plague  and  neglect,  and  she 
was  hung  for  poisoning  the  fourth.  She  was  pro- 
gressive, and,  had  she  lived,  might  have  accomplished 
more." 

This  was  not  precisely  what  the  Lady  Agathe  had 
looked  for,  and  she  again  took  to  silence.  The  distant 
grumble  of  thunder  came  to  their  ears,  and  already  the 
air  hung  heavy  with  that  dead  stillness  that  precedes  the 
summer  storm. 

Monsieur  Vignolles  fell  back  and,  bidding  one  of  the 
women  hand  him  the  Lady  Agathe's  cloak,  again  spurred 
forward  and  would  have  thrown  it  about  her  shoulders ; 
but  she  drew  away,  and  he  could  only  place  it  on  her 
hand. 

"A  truce  to  any  attempt  at  gallantry,  monsieur," 
she  said.  "  It  sets  but  ill  on  your  present  vocation." 

"  My  present  vocation  is  none  of  my  making,  my 
lady,"  he  answered,  and  there  was  true  resentment  in 
his  tone.  "  What  my  Lord  the  Constable  ordains,  that 
I  do,  and  do  quick  enough,  since  protest  would  mean 
ruin." 

"  You  mean  that  you  would  have  avoided  this  duty  ?  " 
she  said,  working  herself  into  the  cloak,  for  the  heavens 
were  becoming  darker  and  darker. 

He  looked  at  her  with  almost  reproach. 

"  Am  I  not  obliged  to  marry  you,  my  lady  ? "  he 
asked.  "  By  my  faith,  we  shall  see  enough  of  each  other 

88 


A   CHANGE   OF   ESCORT 


then,  I'll  be  sworn;  more  than  enough,  'tis  likely,  with- 
out this  introduction." 

"  You  would  not  wed  were  you  not  forced  to  it, 
monsieur  ?  "  she  cried  eagerly. 

"Wed  myself?  Not  to  the  best  lady  in  the  land, 
were  she  to  beseech  me  thereto  on  bended  knee;  not  to 
the  most  beautiful — which  you  are,  my  lady — did  she 
shed  tears  of  pleading  upon  my  shoulder.  Love  them  ? — 
Ah,  therein  is  another  matter;  but  willingly  tie  myself 
to  one — pooh,  my  lady,  'tis  beyond  me !  " 

"  Yet  you  have  calmly  accepted  this  arrangement, 
monsieur,"  she  said  coldly.  "  Bah !  You  are  a  very 
coward !  " 

"  In  that  I  have  obeyed  my  Lord  the  Constable's 
wishes,  perchance  I  am  in  your  eyes,"  he  answered; 
"  but  in  that  I  have  braved  the  horrors  of  marriage,  me- 
thinks  the  account  balances;  and  I  am  simply  what  I 
am,  a  man  with  a  great  fondness  for  life." 

"  The  Count  de  St.  Pol  would  scarce  have  taken  your 
life,"  she  said. 

"  True ;  yet  to  withdraw  his  countenance  would  be 
enough.  You  know  not  these  lords  above  us.  Yet  you 
do,  for  have  you  not  had  example  in  the  fate  of  the  Sieur 
Giraud." 

"  Ah !  and  what  of  him — what  fate  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  Naught  is  known.  He  has  simply  disappeared  from 
off  the  earth.  That  is  the  power  these  men  wield,  my 
lady;  that  is  why  I  shall  wed  you." 

Somehow  his  words  did  not  give  her  the  great  joy 
they  should  have  given.  It  is  seldom  gratifying  to  hear 
one's  attractions  set  at  naught,  and  the  Lady  Agathe  was 
unaccustomed  to  it. 

"  You  speak  with  too  much  assurance,  monsieur," 
she  said  proudly.  "  Moreover,  averse  as  you  profess  to 

89 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


be  toward  this  arrangement,  there  is  a  strange  readiness 
in  the  manner  of  your  submission." 

For  the  fraction  of  a  second  Monsieur  Vignolles's  face 
wore  a  frown,  and  he  seemed  to  meditate  a  sharp  reply. 
But  as  he  looked  at  her  his  irritation  vanished  and  he 
laughed  outright  in  her  face,  only  to  become  grave  again 
under  the  petulant  glance  she  threw  him. 

"  My  Lady  Agathe,  in  truth  you  give  me  too  great 
credit,"  he  said,  and  behind  his  apparent  gravity  there 
lurked  a  note  of  drollery ;  "  for,  alas !  the  very  readiness 
of  which  you  accuse  me  ever  has  been  absent  among  my 
qualities.  That  a  man  should  yield  to  circumstances 
which  menace  his  fortunes,  and  his  very  life  as  well, 
proves,  not  his  readiness,  but  his  adaptability  and  com- 
mon-sense. We  shall  get  on  better,  my  lady,  if  we  meet 
our  punishment  with  the  proper  spirit." 

"  With  the  proper  spirit !  "  cried  the  Lady  Agathe 
wrathfully.  "  We  shall  get  on  better !  " 

Her  head  tossed  contemptuously,  but  he  continued, 
without  taking  apparent  notice : 

"  Let  us  look  at  the  matter  fairly.  Count  Charles 
and  the  constable,  for  reasons  of  their  own,  have  decided 
on  this  match.  That  makes  any  say  of  ours  superfluous. 
Self-destruction  alone  could  set  us  free,  and  really,  my 
lady,  for  myself,  I  think  that  unwarranted  in  the  case. 
What  is  it  that  confronts  us?  Merely  that  you  should 
ally  yourself  to  one  Monsieur  Vignolles,  a  man  of  modest 
fortune,  'tis  true,  but  with  prospects  of  its  betterment; 
a  man  whose  person  is  at  least  not  repulsive  "  (he  paused 
to  give  an  upward  twirl  to  his  moustaches),  "  and  a  man 
whom  five  and  a  score  years  have  left  with  an  infinite 
capacity  for  enjoying  life." 

"  What  allurements !  "  she  said  scornfully. 

"  Qualities,  my  lady ;  qualities  only,"  he  replied 
90 


A   CHANGE  OF   ESCORT 


quickly.  "  For  myself,  the  penalty  I  pay  is  scarce 
greater.  I  am  to  renounce  the  pleasures  of  my  present 
worldly  state,  thrust  aside  the  charms  of  all  womankind, 
and  attach  myself  in  all  devotion  to  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful of  her  sex — for,  indeed,  you  are  very  beautiful,  my 
lady." 

He  bowed  low  over  his  pommel. 

"  And  I  find  you  of  extreme  ugliness,  monsieur,"  said 
the  Lady  Agathe,  knowing  full  well  that  her  words  were 
but  the  outcome  of  spite,  since,  as  Monseigneur  had  said, 
there  was  much  that  was  pleasing  in  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles's  very  youth  and  the  way  he  bore  himself.  More- 
over, she  had  not  found  any  suitable  rejoinder  springing 
to  her  lips. 

"  A  thousand  thanks  for  your  frankness,  my  lady," 
said  he  quickly.  "  Ugliness  often  enough  becomes  even 
pleasing  with  familiarity  and  is  prone  to  be  the  partner 
of  fidelity.  Besides,  it  is  well  that  we  begin  by  being 
candid  with  each  other,  which  leads  me  to  say  that  there 
is  a  certain  sourness  in  your  manner  of  speech  but  ill 
comporting  with  your  charming  exterior,  my  lady." 

She  turned  angrily  upon  him. 

"  And  you  would  presume  to  pass  upon  my  actions — 
you! "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Tis  but  anticipating  my  future  duty,  my  lady,"  he 
answered  promptly.  "  Since  you  must  share  my  name 
and  fame,  I  would  that  I  might  point  to  you  as  a  model 
of  all  the  graces." 

For  a  moment  blind  resentment  kept  her  from  reply- 
ing. The  first  great  drops,  precursors  of  the  flood  be- 
hind, fell  suddenly  upon  them  as  they  rode  onward,  and 
Monsieur  Vignolles  drew  his  mantle  from  its  saddle- 
fastening  and,  shaking  it  out,  took  refuge  within  its 
ample  folds.  As  he  did  so  the  Lady  Agathe  spoke,  and 
7  91 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


he  looked  up  quickly,  for  her  tone,  far  from  exhibit- 
ing the  anger  he  had  expected,  was  almost  wheedling. 
He  saw  that  evidently  she  had  decided  on  another 
course. 

"  Monsieur  Vignolles,  if  I  have  spoken  harshly,  it 
has  been  because  I  am  scarce  myself,"  she  said.  "  You 
indeed  may  speak  lightly  of  this  marriage  they  would 
force  upon  us;  you  are  a  man  and " 

"  And,  therefore,  fearful  of  naught  ?  "  he  inquired, 
while  the  rain  came  faster  and  faster  and  the  play  of 
lightning  ever  became  more  constant. 

She  paid  no  heed  to  his  gibe. 

"  You  are  a  man,  and  see  it  not  in  all  its  horror.  But 
I  am  a  woman,  Monsieur  Vignolles,  and  sooner  than  wed 
one  whom  I  scarcely  know,  I  will  kill  myself,  even  as 
you  have  suggested.  Therein  lies  the  difference  in  the 
way  we  regard  it.  You  are  not  without  some  gallantry, 
monsieur.  I  beseech  you,  compel  me  not  to  such  end." 

"  You  know,  my  Lady  Agathe,  that  what  I  do,  I,  too, 
am  compelled  to,"  he  answered,  for  the  pleading  in  her 
voice  had  reached  his  heart.  "  By  my  faith,  ask  of  me 
any  service  that  I  may  perform,  and  I  swear — 

"  Then  I  demand  that  you  set  me  free  ere  we  have 
gone  another  pace  on  this  road  to  Bruges,  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles. These  men-at-arms,  they  will  obey  you;  send 
them  ahead  on  some  pretext.  Oh,  I  pray  you  let  me  go, 
sir !  It  can  pass  as  an  escape ;  arrange  the  manner  of  its 
accomplishment  yourself.  Only  set  me  free  with  my 
women,  for  I  would  sooner  wander  the  forest  till  death 
o'ertook  me  than  advance  farther  along  this  road  to 
living  shame." 

The  downpour  was  now  upon  them.  Though  the 
hour  was  but  mid-day,  the  darkness  of  evening  had  set- 
tled over  the  country,  and  the  crash  of  thunder  followed 

t  92 

I 


A   CHANGE   OF   ESCORT 


hard  upon  the  blinding  flares  in  the  leaden  sky.  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles  pulled  up  shortly. 

"  We  may,  in  truth,  proceed  no  farther  till  the  storm 
be  ended,  my  lady,"  he  said.  "  If  we  gain  the  ledge 
under  yon  overhanging  bank,  we  shall  have  some  shelter ; 
your  women  may  refuge  beneath  the  cart,"  and  with 
that  he  gave  directions  to  the  dripping  men-at-arms  to 
place  blankets  about  the  sides  of  the  vehicle,  so  that  a 
species  of  tent  was  arranged,  wherein  the  women  sought 
cover. 

He  then  turned  to  the  Lady  Agathe. 

"  Come,  my  lady,"  he  said,  dropping  from  his  saddle 
and  proffering  his  shoulder,  that  she  might  dismount. 

In  another  moment  he  was  leading  her  rapidly  up 
the  bank  by  the  roadside  till  they  had  reached  the  narrow 
ledge  of  which  he  had  spoken.  The  men  below  dis- 
mounted to  ease  their  beasts,  and  crept  beneath  the  near- 
est trees,  the  helmets  and  breast  and  back  plates  of  their 
armour  reflecting  the  lightning  in  vivid  patches  amid 
the  foliage. 

Monsieur  Vignolles  spoke  at  once. 

"  My  Lady  Agathe,  what  you  have  asked  is  beyond 
me  to  grant.  Had  I  but  shown  scruple  or  objection  to 
my  Lord  the  Constable's  wish,  'twould  have  meant  my 
ruin.  Did  I  now  permit  your  flight,  not  alone  Luxem- 
bourg, but  every  province  of  France,  would  be  forbid 
me.  You  know  not  the  influence  the  Count  de  St.  Pol 
holds  with  King  Louis,  even  though  he  now  does  aid 
the  House  of  Burgundy.  Moreover,  to  turn  you  loose 
among  these  hills,  infested  as  they  are  with  the  scum  of 
the  Ardennes,  were  but  to  have  a  hand  in  your  death." 

"  Yet  I  would  have  it  rather  than " 

"  Than  have  aught  in  common  with  the  ugly  Monsieur 
Vignolles,"  he  cut  in,  with  some  return  of  his  old  man- 

93 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


ner,  yet  quickly  becoming  serious  enough.  "  By  my  faith, 
my  lady,  there  are  many  who  would  agree  with  you,  me- 
thinks,  yet  'tis  no  question  of  likes  or  dislikes ;  and  what 
would  you  have — that  I  should  become  a  cast-out,  hunted 
thing  whom  all  men  fear  to  shelter  ?  Ha !  My  taste  lies 
not  that  way,  my  Lady  Agathe." 

"  Bah  !  You  call  yourself  a  man,  Monsieur  Vignolles, 
yet  have  thought  only  for  yourself." 

He  winced,  despite  himself,  beneath  her  contempt. 

"  I  have  in  mind  one  other,  who  now  wanders  the 
land,  stripped  of  all  he  once  possessed.  I  forget  not  the 
Sieur  Giraud,  my  lady,"  he  said  grimly. 

"  He,  at  least,  would  play  a  different  part  than  the 
one  you  do,  monsieur,"  she  said  proudly. 

"  He  not  only  would,  but  did,  play  it  differently,  my 
Lady  Agathe;  with  what  result  you  have  seen.  I  tell 
you  again,  and  frankly,  that  if  it  were  possible  I  would 
avoid  this  marriage  as  well  as  yourself ;  but  I  am  no  such 
fool  as  to  dare  either  Count  Charles  or  my  Lord  the  Con- 
stable. I  beg  you  speak  no  more  of  escape,  for  to  Bruges 
I  must  see  you  safely." 

His  words  were  positive  enough,  and  rang  despair  in 
her  ears ;  yet  he  felt  miserably  in  uttering  them,  and  his 
heart  was  touched  by  her  apparent  grief.  But  Monsieur 
Vignolles  had  not  spoken  idle  excuse,  and  knew  that  any 
trifling  with  his  master's  will  meant  worse  than  death  to 
him.  Moreover,  he  was  young  and  full  of  the  joy  of 
living,  and,  to  speak  truly,  the  beauty  of  the  Lady 
Agathe  had  visibly  affected  him. 

Ere  either  of  them  might  speak  again  the  doleful 
hoot  of  an  owl  arose  from  among  the  trees  across  the 
roadway.  In  an  instant  a  reply  sounded  sharp  and  clear 
above  the  downpour  from  the  bank  above  their  heads, 
and  with  it  came  the  whir  of  an  arrow's  flight.  Mon- 

94 


A   CHANGE   OF   ESCORT 


sieur  Vignolles  leaped  from  the  shelter  he  had  taken,  to 
see  the  missile  embed  itself  in  the  flank  of  one  of  the 
horses,  which,  according  to  custom,  had  been  tied  to- 
gether by  threes.  Instantly  the  tortured  animal  was 
lashing  out  on  all  sides,  setting  the  others  to  kicking 
in  turn,  and  finally  resulting  in  the  whole  six  galloping 
off  in  confusion.  From  their  retreat  under  the  trees 
the  men-at-arms  came  hurrying  forth,  their  curses  min- 
gling with  the  shrieks  that  arose  from  beneath  the  cart, 
and  went  plunging  through  the  heavy  mud  after  their 
mounts. 

"  Stop,  fools ! "  he  roared,  for  'twas  in  his  mind  that 
whence  had  come  that  arrow  lay  further  trouble  of 
greater  import  than  the  horses  at  the  moment.  But  a 
crash  of  thunder  made  his  cry  less  than  a  child's  wailing, 
and  the  next  moment  they  were  gone. 

"  Stay  where  you  are,  my  lady,"  he  cried,  when  he 
could  make  himself  heard,  and,  turning  on  his  heel,  went 
down  the  bank,  his  boots  leaving  a  heavily  ploughed  trail 
behind  him  in  the  soft  soil. 

The  women  had  thrust  their  heads  forth  in  terror 
from  beneath  the  dripping  blankets,  and  he  gruffly  bade 
them  keep  out  of  sight.  Then,  ripping  his  sword  from 
its  sheath,  he  plunged  headlong  into  the  underbrush  in 
the  direction  from  which  he  judged  the  arrow  had  sped. 
As  he  did  so  two  silent  figures  lowered  themselves  from 
the  bank  and  crept  upon  the  Lady  Agathe,  who  had  no 
eyes  or  ears  for  aught  save  the  movements  of  Monsieur 
Vignolles.  Nor  did  she  awaken  to  her  danger  till  sinewy 
hands  held  her  helpless ;  a  coarse  gag  was  thrust  into  her 
mouth,  and  she  was  being  deftly  bound  hand  and  foot. 

"  Well  played,  and  sooner  than  we  had  looked  for  it, 
thanks  to  the  storm,"  muttered  one  of  her  captors  to  the 
other. 

95 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


The  other  grunted  his  assent,  and  the  two,  having 
secured  the  Lady  Agathe  to  their  liking,  lifted  her,  and, 
between  them,  bore  her  quickly  up  the  slope.  As  they 
scrambled  over  the  top,  Monsieur  Vignolles  met  them 
not  ten  paces  distant.  He  had  seen  no  sign  of  an  enemy 
within  the  wood,  and  having  at  last  bethought  himself 
of  the  Lady  Agathe,  had  worked  his  way  back  toward 
where  she  had  been  left.  With  a  loud  cry  he  rushed 
upon  them,  his  great  sword  aloft,  and  so  taken  by  sur- 
prise were  the  two,  that  they  let  their  burden  slip  to  the 
ground  and  fled  on  either  side  into  the  wood.  But  he 
had  seen  the  cruel  gag  in  her  mouth  and  made  no  at- 
tempt at  pursuit,  kneeling  at  her  side  and  removing  it 
with  all  gentleness. 

"  God  grant  you  have  suffered  no  hurt,  my  lady !  " 
he  said.  "  'Tis  far  north  indeed  for  these  knaves  of  Mar- 
celle  to  be  at  work ;  but  the  range  of  that  she-devil  seems 
to  know  no  limits." 

"  Marcelle !  These  were,  then,  her  followers  ? " 
gasped  the  Lady  Agathe,  while  he  rapidly  undid  her 
bonds. 

"  Ay,  for  I  recognised  the  villainous  face  of  one  of 
them  who  bore  you,  my  lady.  'Twas  the  very  rogue 
who  did  me  the  same  office — Tite  they  call  him." 

So  intent  was  he  upon  his  work  of  releasing  her,  that 
it  was  her  own  sharp  cry  that  caused  him  to  whirl  about 
and  half  rise.  Too  late !  Ere  he  might  gain  his  feet  a 
rope  settled  about  his  neck  and  he  was  jerked  flat  upon 
his  back.  This  time  he  had  to  do,  not  with  two,  but  with 
a  half-score  foes,  who  seemed-  to  have  sprung  from  the 
earth.  The  struggle  was  short  and  sharp,  but  too  un- 
equal. In  a  moment  he  was  gagged  and  bound  as  help- 
lessly as  had  been  the  Lady  Agathe. 

At  that  instant  there  reached  them  the  sound  of  the 
96 


A   CHANGE  OF  ESCORT 


men-at-arms  returning;  their  loud  voices  and  the  thud 
of  the  recaptured  horses'  hoofs  on  the  muddy  road 
below.  Monsieur  Vignolles  made  frantic  appeal  with 
his  eyes  to  the  Lady  Agathe,  and,  fearful  of  its  success, 
two  of  the  band  left  him  and  sprang  toward  her.  Before 
they  might  lay  hand  upon  her  she  had  said  quickly, 
checking  them  by  something  in  her  manner: 

"  No,  Monsieur  Vignolles,  I  shall  not  call.  Rather 
than  that,  I  will  chance  Marcelle  the  Mad.  Such  people 
have  their  price,  and  I  will  buy " 

But  here  a  muttered  oath  from  Tite,  who  sat  astride 
Monsieur  Vignolles,  urged  the  men  on,  and  they  choked 
off  her  further  utterance. 

Back  into  the  forest  they  were  swiftly  borne, 
doubling  and  turning  till  all  trace  of  their  direction 
was  lost,  even  had  there  been  any  pursuit.  At  last  they 
halted,  and,  under  the  dripping  leaves,  Tite  and  another 
set  to  work  to  fashion  a  kind  of  rude  litter  from  saplings 
which  they  hacked  down  with  their  huge  knives.  When 
it  was  finished  to  their  liking,  the  Lady  Agathe  was 
placed  thereon;  but  before  starting  afresh  Tite  ap- 
proached Monsieur  Vignolles  and  severed  his  bonds, 
removing  the  gag  as  well.  Nor  did  Monsieur  Vignolles 
move,  since  the  ready  arrows  of  the  others  were  turned 
toward  him,  and  to  shout  now  would  have  been  folly. 

"  And  now  go,  monsieur !  "  said  Tite.  "  We  have  no 
wish  for  your  company !  Your  sword  we  shall  keep  this 
time  as  a  token — go !  " 

Monsieur  Vignolles  turned  and  seemed  about  to  leave 
them,  his  head  bent  low  upon  his  breast ;  but  of  a  sudden 
he  swung  about  and  his  glance  sought  the  Lady  Agathe, 
and,  having  met  her  look,  he  stood  a  moment  in  silence. 
Then  Tite  came  before  him  and  would  have  spoken,  save 
that  the  other  anticipated  him  and  spoke  first. 

97 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


"  So  be  it ;  I  will  go,"  he  said  quietly ;  "  but  'twill  be 
with  you.  Give  the  word,  man !  " 

Tite  growled  angrily. 

"  That  may  not  be,  monsieur ;  I  hold  no  instructions 
regarding  you.  Be  off  while  you  have  the  chance." 

"  I  have  said  that  I  go  with  you,"  answered  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles  coolly,  and  unconsciously  came  near  to 
the  Lady  Agathe,  while  Tite  conferred  aside  with  the 
others. 

"  Why — why  do  you  do  this,  monsieur  ?  "  she  said 
in  a  low  tone.  "  Go — go  while  your  life  is  safe,  I  pray 
you." 

He  smiled;  his  most  heedless  smile  it  was,  and  mock 
surprise  was  in  his  elevated  brows. 

"  Go,  my  lady  ?  And  am  I  not,  then,  your  affianced 
spouse  ?  A  fine  figure  I  should  cut,  forsooth !  " 

She  turned  her  head  in  anger,  yet  his  determination 
to  follow  scarce  displeased  her.  Willingly,  in  truth,  she 
had  chosen  to  face  Marcelle  rather  than  go  farther  on 
that  road  to  Bruges ;  but  she  confessed  that  his  presence 
would  do  much  to  relieve  her  fears. 

Tite  turned  now  and  said: 

"  You  may  not  go  with  us,  monsieur ;  so  speak  no 
further  thereon,  but  be  off.  There  are  those  here  who 
are  for  tying  you  to  the  nearest  tree,  as  it  is." 

"  Ay,  ay !  "  was  the  general  cry. 

"  Moreover,  Marcelle " 

"  I  will  answer  to  Marcelle,"  said  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles. "  This  lady  is,  or  was,  under  my  protection ; 
that  is  sufficient  reason  for  my  going." 

"  Not  for  me,  monsieur ;  unless — unless  the  lady  so 
desires  it.  My  orders  were  to  use  all  gentleness  and 
attend  her  wishes  so  far  as  might  be.  You  would  like 
monsieur  to  accompany  you,  my  lady  ?  " 

98 


A   CHANGE  OF   ESCORT 


The  Lady  Agathe's  gaze  wandered  from  Tite  to  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles  and  there  remained.  Had  she  been  able 
to  tear  from  that  look  she  would  have  said  "  No."  She 
was  conscious  that  his  will  was  strong  upon  her — so 
strong  that  she  writhed  under  its  power;  but  she  spoke 
quietly  enough: 

"  Yes,  I  desire  that  Monsieur  Vignolles  accompany 
me." 

"  Enough ! "  growled  Tite,  and  on  a  sign  from  him 
the  litter  was  raised  and  the  bedraggled  party  set  forth 
again  through  the  sodden  forest  on  the  long  trip  south- 
ward. 

And  in  the  rear,  his  fine  attire  plastered  with  mud, 
and  the  harsh  welt  of  the  rope  still  red  upon  his  neck, 
strode  Monsieur  Vignolles.  Ever  and  anon  his  gaze 
rested  upon  the  fair  head  of  the  Lady  Agathe  before 
him,  and  as  often  he  smiled  strangely. 


99 


CHAPTER  VII 

MY    LORD'S    MESSENGER 

WHAT  strange  motive  had  impelled  Marcelle 
to  send  Tite  and  the  others  forth  upon  this 
errand  which  had   resulted  in  the  seizure 
of  the  Lady  Agathe?     She  herself  could 
scarce  have  told  had  one  questioned  her  thereon,  yet  to 
her  inner  consciousness  it  was  clear  enough. 

When  she  had  fled  like  a  startled  fawn  from  the  Sieur 
Giraud's  side  the  idea  had  already  flashed  itself  upon  her 
mind.  How  far  she  had  sped  through  the  forest  she 
knew  not;  but  at  length  she  had  thrown  herself  down 
in  the  darkest  of  green  recesses,  and  here,  with  the  tears 
blinding  her  sight  and  great  sobs  convulsing  her  slight 
form,  she  had  fought  it  out  with  herself.  The  Sieur 
Giraud  had  said  that  she  might  not  understand,  might 
not  feel  this  mighty  passion  which,  even  as  he  had  spoken, 
was  rendering  her  distracted.  Ay,  and  he  had  spoken 
to  her  in  such  tone  of  patronage  as  he  might  have  used 
to  a  child.  How  could  the  man  have  stood  so  near  her 
and  yet  not  have  felt  the  heart-ache  she  suffered,  not 
heard  her  cry  for  one  word  of  love — nay,  even  sympathy 
and  understanding — from  him  ?  How  could  he  have  done 
so,  forsooth?  Because  of  that  other,  the  Lady  Agathe, 
who  possessed  his  mind  above  all  else  in  the  world.  And 
as  she  had  thought  of  this,  her  small  hands  had  clenched 
in  fury,  yet  after  a  moment  a  strange  quiet  had  crept 
over  her,  and  again  the  thought  that  had  been  roused 

loo 


MY   LORD'S   MESSENGER 


within  her  had  filled  her  mind.  What  manner  of  woman 
was  this  who  could  so  hold  a  man  to  her  memory ;  what 
charm  did  she  possess  which  she,  Marcelle,  so  sadly 
lacked?  In  truth,  therein  lay  the  secret  of  the  Sieur 
Giraud's  devotion ;  therein  the  quality  which  she  would 
give  her  very  life  to  attain. 

And  now  she  knew  that  the  chance  had  been  offered 
her  of  acquiring  this  knowledge,  for  the  thought  which 
had  come  to  her  was  naught  else  than  that  of  seizing 
the  Lady  Agathe  as  she  journeyed  from  Namur.  The 
more  she  conjured  upon  it,  the  more  she  was  inclined 
thereto.  Did  she  leave  her  to  go  on  her  way  to  Bruges, 
in  truth,  the  woman  would  scarce  be  of  further  trouble 
to  her,  yet  she  knew  that  in  such  case  the  grief  of  the 
man,  besides  cutting  her  to  the  heart,  would  only  too 
surely  prevent  his  paying  her  a  thought.  He  was  scarce 
the  sort  who  would  turn  from  one  woman  to  another 
for  solace. 

And  so  she  had  decided.  She  would  have  the  Lady 
Agathe  seized  and  brought  before  her;  the  proud  head 
should  humble  itself  before  Marcelle,  the  despised  thing 
of  the  hills,  and  face  to  face  she  would  confront  the 
woman  who  held  the  affections  of  the  man  she  loved. 
The  success  of  the  plan  should  be  assured — though  its 
accomplishment  meant  a  long  march  northward — for  the 
country  through  which  the  Lady  Agathe  would  travel 
was  comparatively  free  of  Companions,  and  a  small 
escort  would  therefore  be  deemed  sufficient. 

The  matter  once  decided,  Marcelle  felt  that  a  great 
weight  had  been  lifted  from  her  mind.  She  started  to 
rise  to  make  her  way  back  to  the  camp,  but  fell  back 
quickly  at  the  sound  of  voices  in  low  discourse.  Those 
who  spoke  were  coming  through  the  forest  in  her  direc- 
tion, and  she  crouched  softly  beneath  the  thick  under- 

101 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


growth  that  hedged  in  her  retreat  as  with  a  wall.  She 
was  conscious  of  a  redness  about  the  eyes  of  which  she 
would  not  have  others  of  the  band  make  note ;  she  would 
wait  till  they  had  passed.  But,  alas  for  such  plan!  for, 
as  they  came  opposite  her,  one  spoke,  and  she  marvelled 
to  find  it  was  a  strange  voice. 

"  By  St.  Hubert,  I'll  go  no  farther  into  the  forest ! 
Over  five  leagues  have  I  ridden,  with  scarce  a  breath, 
and  now  you  would  march  me  through  all  the  Ardennes, 
methinks.  If  this  be  no  safe  place  for  what  we  have 
to  say,  then  are  you  fearful  of  your  very  shadow  upon 
the  leaves,  man." 

"  Ay,  'tis  safe  enough  here,"  answered  the  other 
quickly,  and  Marcelle  started,  for  it  was  the  voice  of 
Crepin  Brune.  "  Yet  I  do  know  the  beaten  paths 
through  this  wood  better  than  you  may,  monsieur,  and 
know  as  well  when  I  have  left  them  behind;  but  now 
may  you  speak  freely.  Last  night  word  reached  me 
from  the  old  vine-grower,  Meux,  that  you  would  come 
to-day ;  but,  in  truth,  I  see  not  why  we  meet  here,  rather 
than  at  his  house,  as  before." 

So  Poncet's  father  had  a  hand  in  the  meeting  of 
Crepin  and  this  stranger.  Marcelle  took  an  added  inter- 
est in  their  talk. 

"  What  I  have  to  say  is  for  your  ears  alone,"  an- 
swered the  other.  "  Besides,  my  lord  has  taken  some 
distrust  of  this  old  man  Meux;  but  let  us  come  to  the 
point.  We  know,  thanks  to  you,  that  the  Sieur  Giraud 
d'Orson  now  numbers  himself  among  your  company." 

"  Ay,  curse  him !  But  for  him  I  should  not  still  be 
striped  with  welts  the  size  of  your  thumb !  "  replied 
Crepin  sourly. 

"  In  truth,  he  is  held  in  higher  favour  elsewhere  since 
Count  Charles  has  been  heard  bitterly  to  bemoan  his 

102 


MY   LORD'S   MESSENGER 


loss,"  said  the  stranger.  "  Methinks  that  ne'er  had  he 
man  about  him  so  greatly  in  his  trust,  and  would  give 
much  for  his  return,  could  his  pride  be  overcome." 

"  To  the  devil  with  the  Sieur  Giraud !  I  came  not 
here  to  listen  to  his  praises ;  proceed  with  your  business," 
growled  Crepin,  and  the  two  seated  themselves  on  the 
ground  scarce  two  paces  from  Marcelle,  yet  so  dense  was 
her  cover  that  she  might  not  see  them. 

"  The  Sieur  Giraud  forms  part  of  the  matter  in 
hand,"  replied  the  man;  "but  listen;  that  will  appear. 
Count  Charles  has  planned  to  reconnoitre  the  country 
for  some  three  leagues  from  Namur  two  days  hence. 
He  will  lead  one  party  in  person  and  will  sweep  the  hills, 
while  the  Count  de  St.  Pol  brings  his  men  up  the  valley 
along  the  river.  The  two  forces  will  rendezvous  at  noon 
on  the  Great  Bald  Knoll,  where  the  river  makes  a  sharp 
bend  to  the  right.  You  know  the  spot?  " 

Crepin  grunted  as  though  the  question  were  too  futile 
for  words,  and  the  stranger  continued: 

"  From  here  they  will  return  to  Namur  with  such 
game  as  they  may  have  bagged " 

"  Little  enough  that  will  be,"  cut  in  Crepin.  "  But 
I  see  not  the  reasoning  of  all  this,  nor  how  it  concerns 
the  Sieur  Giraud." 

"  Were  my  lord's  designs  for  such  as  you  to  divine, 
they  would  scarce  be  worth  the  repeating;  do  but  lend 
an  ear,  and  hold  your  tongue  till  I  be  ended !  "  said  the 
man  sharply.  "  Since  you  know  the  place  of  rendezvous, 
that  is  enough,  for  there  lies  your  work.  You  will  know, 
as  well,  that  the  house  of  the  old  vine-grower,  Meux, 
is  not  far  removed  therefrom." 

"  Scarce  the  range  of  a  full  bow,  as  the  arrow  would 
fall,"  answered  Crepin,  and  added  stubbornly,  "  But  what 
of  that,  forsooth  ?  That  you  meditate  some  move  against 

103 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


this  cursed  Charles  of  Burgundy  I  know  well  enough ; 
but  I  am  no  fool  to  throw  myself  under  the  boar's  tusks, 
much  as  I  would  hail  his  end." 

"  You  are  a  fool,  and  over-fond  of  talk  withal,"  cried 
the  stranger,  and  rose  in  anger.  "  We  shall  find  another 
and  more  tractable  agent ;  one  who  will  show  the  same 
readiness  in  performing  his  work  as  in  grasping  his  pay, 
which  first  you  do  not,  Monsieur  Crepin." 

"  The  devil !  I  am  ready  enough,  man,  if  I  see  my 
way  clear,"  answered  Crepin,  and  there  was  much  fear 
in  his  voice  lest  he  lose  the  reward  the  other  had  adroitly 
suggested.  "  But,  by  my  faith,  I  am  not  mad  enough 
to  set  upon  the  Count  de  Charolais  surrounded  by  a 
squadron  of  men-at-arms,  which  rnethinks  you  would 
propose !  " 

"  Dolt,  I  said  naught  that  could  be  so  construed !  " 
replied  the  man,  while  Marcelle  felt  herself  tremble  with 
the  agitation  his  words  had  roused.  "  No  one  asks  you 
to  risk  your  precious  skin,  Monsieur  Crepin;  but  what 
if  Count  Charles  should  be  more  bold  and  come  alone  to 
the  house  of  our  friend  Meux?  Would  you  then  draw 
bow  with  steadier  hand  ?  " 

"  You  speak  madness ;  the  man  is  bold  enough,  God 
knows,  but " 

"  The  thing  can  be  arranged.  My  lord  has  said  so, 
and  he  is  not  given  to  idle  dreams,  Monsieur  Crepin, 
and  here  the  Sieur  Giraud  becomes  of  moment  in  the 
game.  It  is  no  secret  that  the  slur  cast  upon  Count 
Charles's  birth  by  the  fools  of  Dinant — your  pardon, 
monsieur — gnaws  consumedly  at  his  heart.  He  will 
know  no  peace  of  mind  till  that  be  avenged  in  blood, 
and,  most  of  all,  he  burns  with  craving  for  the  life  of 
that  Gaspard  Lenoir  who  led  the  rabble  that  night  before 
the  walls  of  Bouvignes." 

104 


MY   LORD'S   MESSENGER 


"  Ha,  I  may  well  believe  that !  "  laughed  Crepin. 

"  Then  the  rest  will  be  plain  to  you,"  said  the  other 
shortly.  "  Here  is  this  Gaspard  Lenoir,  whom  Count 
Charles  would  give  almost  his  hand  to  hold;  there  is 
the  Sieur  Giraud,  who  would  hesitate  at  naught  to  make 
his  peace  with  his  old  master.  Equip  the  Sieur  Giraud 
with  some  knowledge  of  Gaspard  Lenoir — some  certain 
power  by  which  he  can  place  him  in  Count  Charles's 
hands — and — the  result  is  plain  enough." 

"  But  the  Sieur  Giraud  knows  naught  of  Gaspard 
Lenoir,"  cried  Crepin. 

"  Therefore  it  is  for  you  to  inform  him,"  replied  the 
stranger. 

"  Not  I !  I  would  be  torn  to  pieces  by  the  band  or 
by  any  of  the  thousands  of  Companions,"  cried  Crepin. 
"  Moreover,  I  know  little  of  the  man  myself,  though 
once  I  heard  him  speak  before  the  people." 

"  It  is  not  that  you  shall  say  anything  true  of  the 
man  Lenoir,  anything  that  shall  put  him  in  danger.  We 
care  not  for  the  man's  life,  so  be  it  he  serves  our  purpose. 
Inform  the  Sieur  Giraud  that  you  know  the  man,  can 
arrange  for  his  capture,  and  that  you  will  turn  him  over  to 
him,  provided  he  swears  to  reward  you  later  and  afford 
you  his  protection.  He  will  see  naught  in  it  save  your 
greed  of  gain,  and  will  promise,  I'll  be  sworn.  The  trick 
will  serve,  for  the  man  is  desperate  and  will  do  anything 
to  retrieve  his  fortunes." 

"  Well ;  and  then  ?  "  said  Crepin,  with  some  show  of 
eagerness. 

"  Then  there  remains  but  to  induce  him  to  write 
Count  Charles,  advising  him  of  what  he  knows — or  thinks 
he  knows — of  this  Gaspard  Lenoir,  and  begging  for  a 
chance  of  speaking  with  him.  With  this  will  end  the 
Sieur  Giraud's  part." 

105 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  End  his  part !  "  said  Crepin  stupidly. 

"Ay;  and  much  thanks  shall  we  owe  him,"  answered 
the  other.  "  The  postscript  which  shall  carry  the  real 
meat  of  the  letter  shall  be  my  task,  and,  in  truth,  I  will 
have  lost  my  cunning  if,  with  a  copy  of  the  man's  hand 
before  me,  I  may  not  make  it  seem  the  work  of  one. 
My  lord  chooses  those  who  serve  him  with  some  care, 
Monsieur  Crepin.  Be  at  ease ;  Count  Charles  will  go  to 
the  vine-grower's  house  on  the  morrow." 

"  Perchance,  with  threescore  or  more  at  his  back," 
sneered  Crepin. 

"  He  will  go  alone.  What  has  he  to  fear  from  the 
Sieur  Giraud?  The  man  may  have  been  guilty  of  med- 
dling with  women,  as  the  report  is,  but  otherwise  he 
never  had  swerved  in  his  loyalty.  Besides,  pride  runs 
in  no  man  stronger  than  in  the  Count  de  Charolais,  and 
he  fain  would  have  no  common  topic  made  of  this  Gas- 
pard  Lenoir  and  his  work  at  Bouvignes.  In  his  presence 
none  dare  mention  it." 

"  But  he  will  soon  see  the  trick,"  persisted  Crepin. 
"  The  Sieur  Giraud  will  not  be  there  and " 

"  And  you  will,  Monsieur  Crepin,"  cut  in  the 
stranger.  "  You  will  be  there — in  the  thicket  at  the 
side  of  the  path  leading  to  the  door.  If  you  get  him 
not,  then — but  faith,  man!  Even  mail  may  not  with- 
stand full  bow  at  three  paces,  and  two  hundred  golden 
crowns  should  serve  to  make  you  hold  steady.  This  is  the 
work  I  bring  you  from  my  master,  Monsieur  Crepin. 
In  other  ways  it  might  be  accomplished,  yet  with  some 
danger  of  his  hand  showing  in  it.  Come;  what  say 
you?" 

"  By  my  faith,  'twould  please  me  much  to  make  an 
end  of  this  '  Charlotel ' !  "  cried  Crepin.  "  And  serve  to 
make  me  the  greatest  of  all  among  these  hills.  I'll  do 

1 06 


MY   LORD'S   MESSENGER 


it,  monsieur.  I'll  be  in  the  thicket  at  the  vine-grower's 
at  noon  two  days  hence.  Do  you  but  attend  to  your 
share  as  well." 

"  And  the  letter  ?  "  asked  the  other. 

"  Ay,  and  I  will  get  the  letter  from  the  Sieur  Giraud," 
responded  Crepin,  rising,  "  save  he  suspect  me,  which  I 
scarce  fear,  for  I  shall  have  a  tale  to  tell  him  of  Gaspard 
Lenoir  that  shall  do  me  credit.  Do  you  wait  where  I 
first  met  you,  near  the  dead  oak,  and  it  shall  be  in  your 
hands  soon." 

He  paused  a  moment;  then,  drawing  near  to  the 
other,  said  shrewdly: 

"  Yet  I  would  know  the  name  of  this  master  you 
serve ;  this  one  you  call  '  my  lord/  for " 

"  That  you  shall  not,  Monsieur  Crepin,"  answered 
the  man ;  "  for  to  tell  you  would  mean  my  death  did  it 
reach  my  lord's  ears.  Two  hundred  crowns  in  gold  you 
shall  have  if  you  succeed;  but  none  of  your  meddling. 
The  offer  is  fair,  and  here  are  a  score  as  warranty  of 
our  faith.  Take  the  task  or  leave  it  for  some  other,  as 
you  will." 

But  Crepin  had  already  pounced  upon  the  gold,  and 
Marcelle  heard  its  chink  as  it  passed  into  his  hands. 

Without  another  word  the  two  parted  and  stole  away 
silently  through  the  forest. 

Marcelle  lay  motionless,  but  with  wide-staring  eyes, 
until  they  should  be  far  from  earshot ;  then  with  a  bound 
leaped  to  her  feet  and  glided  off  like  a  shadow  among 
the  trees. 

As  she  approached  the  camp,  the  "  tap,  tap "  of  a 
hammer  upon  metal  greeted  her  ears,  and  a  moment 
later  she  came  upon  Tite,  who  sat  apart  from  the  others, 
busily  engaged  in  fashioning  a  rough  sheet  of  brass  he 
had  somehow  acquired  into  some  semblance  of  a  dish. 
8  107 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


The  old  man  would  revert  to  the  calling  which  once 
had  meant  his  livelihood  even  in  this  wild  life  he  now 
led.  At  sight  of  him  there  returned  to  her  with  all  its 
force  the  decision  she  had  taken,  and  she  beckoned  him 
aside.  Their  talk  lasted  till  the  evening  shadows  were 
merging  into  gloom  and  the  camp  fires,  from  a  sickly 
yellow,  flared  redly,  for  Tite  raised  many  objections  to 
her  wishes.  At  length,  however,  he  nodded  grimly,  and, 
making  his  way  through  the  men,  touched  here  and  there 
one  whom  he  bade  follow  him,  till  some  half-score  were 
at  his  heels.  By  his  direction  these  waited  only  to  help 
themselves  generously  from  the  camp  kettle,  and,  having 
eaten  hurriedly,  seized  their  bows  and  slipped  away  with 
him  into  the  growing  darkness.  With  a  long  tramp 
before  him,  Tite  preferred  being  on  the  spot  first  and 
resting  afterward. 

Marcelle  watched  them  go  with  a  fierce  joy  in  her 
heart,  yet  it  was  a  joy  much  tempered  by  the  uneasiness 
which  the  words  of  Crepin  and  the  stranger  had  given 
her.  She  knew  now  that  there  was  some  one  in  Count 
Charles's  own  following — some  one  of  position,  since  the 
man  had  called  him  "  my  lord " — who  desired  the 
count's  death  even  as  much  as  any  of  those  about  her. 
Who  this  was  she  made  no  attempt  to  guess,  yet  be- 
lieved it  to  be  one  who  worked  at  the  behest  of  King 
Louis,  for  he  would  give  much  to  know  that  the  bane 
of  his  ambitions  had  been  removed. 

The  uneasiness  that  Marcelle  felt  was  not  in  any 
sense  due  to  any  compunction.  She  believed  with  all 
her  heart  that  the  death  of  the  Count  de  Charolais  would 
accomplish  more  for  her  people  than  aught  else  might, 
yet  she  had  shuddered  at  hearing  these  cold-blooded 
plans  for  its  accomplishment.  Also  the  manner  of 
Crepin's  playing  the  spy  and  becoming  the  tool  of  others 

108 


MY   LORD'S   MESSENGER 


without  her  knowledge  served  to  enrage  her  beyond 
bounds.  Yet,  in  truth,  the  man  had  done  naught  which 
the  Companions  would  not  applaud,  and,  were  his  intent 
successful,  would,  indeed,  be  hailed  as  a  saviour. 

She  walked  slowly  within  the  circle  of  light,  her  head 
upon  her  breast  and  her  mind  deep  in  thought.  Petite 
Maman  and  the  other  women  ceased  their  noisy  chatter, 
and  Poncet  addressed  her  some  question  concerning 
Tite's  mission,  but  she  seemed  not  to  hear,  and,  as  she 
raised  her  head,  her  eyes  travelled  swiftly  among  them 
until  they  rested  upon  the  figure  of  the  Sieur  Giraud. 
He  sat  aloof  from  the  rest,  but  even  as  she  looked  he 
rose,  and  she  saw  that  he  held  in  one  hand  a  folded  bit 
of  parchment.  Crepin,  then,  had  not  failed. 

Poncet  had  followed  Marcelle's  gaze  with  his  own, 
and  now,  thinking  to  see  an  opportunity  for  merriment, 
leaped  to  his  feet  and,  pointing  to  the  Sieur  Giraud,  de- 
risively cried: 

"  Ho,  you  there,  Petite  Maman,  and  you,  Bonne 
Fleuron,  you  who  be  past-mistresses  in  the  ways  of  love, 
what  think  you  of  a  man  who,  having  ruined  himself 
for  a  woman,  would  still  tempt  fate?  Regard  yon  love- 
sick face  of  the  Sieur  Giraud  and  the  letter  freshly  com- 
posed to — well,  whom  think  you,  the  same  or  another? 
and,  if  another,  which  of  you  has  supplanted  the  first 
wench  ?  " 

Poncet's  tone  indicated  that  he  himself  loved  them 
all  and  waited  their  answer  in  agonised  suspense,  and 
was  greeted  with  a  wild  burst  of  laughter. 

"  Do  you  let  the  man  alone ! "  cried  Petite  Maman, 
for  the  Sieur  Giraud  was  liked  for  what  he  was  not  by 
these  women.  "  When  he  meddles  in  your  affairs  'twill 
be  time  enough " 

The  sentence  was  never  ended,  for  the  Sieur  Giraud 
109 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


had  come  quietly  to  the  side  of  Poncet  and,  holding  him 
with  something  in  his  eye,  seemed  to  meditate  a  retort. 
An  instant  later  his  jaw  shut  sharply  on  the  speech  and 
he  knocked  Poncet  flat  upon  his  back.  Nor  was  Poncet 
fully  aware  what  had  occurred  until  well-nigh  a  half- 
hour  afterward.  And  then  the  Sieur  Giraud  stood  there 
waiting  for  the  others  whom  he  looked  to  set  upon  him ; 
but  there  was  no  move  made,  and  the  truth  was  that  he 
had  made  a  greater  stride  in  the  company's  favour  with 
that  blow  than  he  knew.  They  could  not  understand 
the  sentiment  which  had  led  the  Sieur  Giraud  to  his 
present  state ;  but  they  were  all  at  heart  with  a  man  who 
could  deal  such  blow  in  squaring  an  offence.  It  had 
been  workmanlike.  As  for  the  women,  they  screamed 
their  approval  in  shrill  tones. 

At  last  the  Sieur  Giraud  turned  and  caught  Mar- 
celle's  eye  upon  him. 

"  Your  pardon  for  such  scene,  but,  in  truth,  it  could 
scarce  be  helped,"  he  said,  and  smiled. 

"  I  know ;  I  have  heard,"  she  answered  quietly,  and 
then,  as  by  chance,  "  But  where  is  Crepin  ?  I  had 
thought  to  find  him  here,  and " 

"  He  was  here  within  the  half-hour,  and  left,  saying 
that  he  would  return  shortly,"  said  the  Sieur  Giraud 
quickly.  "  I  know  not  what  should  have  taken  him  off 
in  such  haste,  especially  as  he  but  waited  for  me  to  have 
ended " 

He  checked  himself  suddenly. 

"That  letter?"  said  Marcelle,  and  moved  a  little 
aside  from  the  others,  so  that  he  must  follow. 

He  bowed  his  assent,  for  denial  would  have  been  use- 
less after  the  way  he  had  betrayed  himself;  then  added 
in  a  low  tone: 

"  Marcelle,  I  came  to  you  disgraced,  dishonoured,  a 
no 


MY   LORD'S   MESSENGER 


driven  thing  before  all  the  world.  You  saved  me  from 
the  death  I  welcomed,  and  in  return  I  pledged  myself 
to  follow  you  and  you  alone  during  your  pleasure.  If 
by  any  chance  my  old  station  could  be  restored  me, 
would  you  release  me  from  my  word?" 

She  now  was  certain  from  his  earnestness  that  Crepin 
had  indeed  raised  the  dying  ambition  in  the  man. 

"  Release  you  ?  Why  should  I  do  so  ? "  she  asked 
sharply.  "  We  are  well  content  with  your  services ;  do 
you  try  to  be  content  with  your  lot,  Sieur  Giraud.  But 
methinks  there  is  some  connection  between  your  request 
and  this  letter,  as  you  speak  of  them  in  the  same  breath, 
and  you  make  use  of  strange  messengers,  since  Crepin 
is  so  favoured." 

He  made  no  reply,  but  involuntarily  thrust  the  parch- 
ment within  his  belt.  As  for  Marcelle,  she  longed  to 
put  an  end  to  this  indirect  and  false  talk  and  do  this  man 
she  loved  a  real  service  by  informing  him  of  the  base 
use  to  which  he  was  being  put.  Yet  to  do  so  meant  that 
she  should  ruin  the  cherished  wish  of  those  who  looked 
with  all  confidence  to  her  for  guidance;  meant  that  she, 
of  all  others,  should  step  in  to  save  the  life  of  him  they 
execrated,  the  Count  de  Charolais.  And,  as  though  this 
were  not  enough,  it  meant  that  the  Sieur  Giraud,  oath  or 
no  oath,  would  for  ever  pass  out  of  her  life,  for  she  well 
knew  that,  did  he  suspect  this  conspiracy,  never  would 
he  remain  a  moment  with  them.  No ;  this  must  not  be  ; 
she  could  not  bear  it  now.  Crepin  must  be  left  a  free 
hand. 

And  as  though  in  answer  to  her  thought,  Crepin  him- 
self parted  the  brush  at  the  side  and,  looking  swiftly 
about,  saw  them  and  strode  in  their  direction.  Fearful 
lest  the  stranger  might  depart,  he  had  been  to  beg  him 
wait  yet  a  little  while.  The  Sieur  Giraud  had  needed 

in 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


much  convincing.  As  he  came  forward,  the  Sieur  Giraud 
looked  up  quickly  and  said,  as  though  he  had  fought  the 
matter  out  and  was  decided  enough: 

"  Your  terms  were  more  harsh  than  I  thought  at  the 
time,  but  I  warn  you,  Marcelle,  that  I,  who  ne'er  yet 
have  broken  my  word,  will  have  small  regard  for  it 
if " 

Again  he  checked  himself.  In  truth,  it  seemed  that 
the  rising  hope  within  him  was  robbing  him  of  all  dis- 
cretion. 

"  You  speak  strangely  of  a  return  to  your  former 
condition,  Sieur  Giraud,"  said  Marcelle.  "  I  warn  you, 
in  return,  that  any  attempt  of  yours  to  re-enter  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Count  de  Charolais  would  mean  your  death ; 
and  that  you  know,  as  well."  And  then,  with  a  little 
laugh  and  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  as  though  his  words 
had  been  too  futile  for  consideration,  she  added,  "  Yet 
I  will  promise  you  such  relief  as  you  may  gain  from 
that  letter." 

The  next  moment,  as  Crepin  came  up,  she  turned  to 
join  Petite  Maman  and  the  others  grouped  round  the 
fire.  The  Sieur  Giraud  even  smiled  at  her  last  words. 
Little  she  knew,  he  thought,  of  what  his  letter  conveyed, 
else  had  she  already  brought  him  face  to  face  with  the 
wrath  of  the  band,  the  wrath  that  would  wreak  a  terrible 
vengeance  on  any  who  should  dare  hunt  down  this  Gas- 
pard  Lenoir.  It  had  been  a  close  matter,  and  he  wiped 
a  drop  of  sweat  from  his  brow. 

Marcelle,  looking  up  for  an  instant,  beheld  Crepin 
disappearing  into  the  wood,  and  caught  the  white  flutter 
of  something  in  his  hand  against  the  green  background. 
Then  he  was  gone. 


112 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AFTER    THE    STORM 

THE  same  storm  which  had  so  pitilessly  descended 
upon  Monsieur  Vignolles  and  the  Lady  Agathe 
had  swept  along  the  river  valley  and  passed 
with  shattering  force  away  to  the  southward, 
over  the  Ardennes  hills.  Where  its  path  had  been,  many 
a  shivered  tree-trunk  swayed  yellow  and  creaking  in  the 
after-gale,  dread  witnesses  of  the  omnipotence  of  Heaven. 
For  three  hours  the  rain  had  lasted,  with  a  downrush 
that  threatened  to  wash  the  Companions  bodily  out  from 
nature's  refuges — the  caverns  in  the  cut  banks — where 
they  had  taken  shelter. 

Now  that  the  tempest  had  passed  on,  and  only  the  dis- 
tant grumble  of  thunder  remained  of  all  the  tumult,  they 
came  crawling  from  their  retreats  like  so  many  rabbits 
when  the  dogs  have  swept  past. 

Turbid  yellow  torrents  now  filled  the  stream  beds 
where  before  had  been  only  dry  boulders;  great  fresh 
gashes  were  gouged  in  the  hillsides,  telling  scars  of  the 
flood  that  had  been,  and  over  all  was  the  pervading  smell 
of  damp  earth  and  the  moist  fragrance  of  the  dripping 
pines.  Yet  it  is  doubtful  if  any  note  of  all  this  was  made 
by  those  who  came  forth  into  the  light  of  day.  Other 
affairs  occupied  their  minds  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else. 

Before  the  storm  had  broken  upon  them,  the  Sieur 
Giraud  had  reported  the  approach  of  another  band  of 
Companions,  a  band  with  which  they  had  had  many  pre- 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


vious  skirmishes,  and  who  were  wont  to  trespass  on  what 
the  followers  of  Marcelle  deemed  their  territory  by  force 
of  possession  and  might.  The  invaders  had  succeeded  in 
making  off  with  Andre  Vaucler,  and  the  Sieur  Giraud 
had  barely  escaped  them.  Now  there  was  but  one 
thought  in  all  their  minds — to  fall  upon  these  marauders 
ere  they  might  recover  from  the  drenching  they  had  en- 
dured. Andre  Vaucler  must  be  retaken  and  these  fools 
taught  a  lesson  they  would  never  forget.  So  fought 
these  outlaws  of  the  Ardennes  among  themselves  with 
all  the  weapons  that  bitterness  and  treachery  could  sug- 
gest, united  though  they  were  in  their  common  hatred 
of  the  Bishop  of  Liege  and  the  Burgundian  faction. 

And  now  they  would  have  none  but  the  Sieur  Giraud 
at  their  head.  He  it  was  who  had  barely  missed  capture 
himself,  and  so  he  should  lead  them  to  the  spot.  Nor 
was  he  loath  to  accept  the  office.  He  had  done  his  best 
to  save  Andre,  through  no  great  love  of  the  man,  it  was 
true,  but  because  of  that  spirit  which  renders  a  man 
prompt  to  fight  against  odds  at  all  times.  Moreover, 
he  was  nursing  a  flesh  wound  of  one  arm,  where  an 
arrow  had  grazed  it,  and  was  in  fit  mood  for  the  under- 
taking. Marcelle,  therefore,  had  made  no  protest  to  his 
selection,  and,  in  truth,  there  had  been  much  of  pride  in 
the  look  with  which  she  had  watched  him  go.  She  took 
it  as  a  sort  of  unwitting  approval  of  her  love  for  the 
man. 

Thus  the  camp  had  been  almost  stripped  of  Compan- 
ions. She  had  kept  Crepin  and  some  half  dozen  others, 
the  former  because  she  now  preferred  to  have  an  eye  on 
his  movements ;  the  latter,  in  case  any  trouble  should 
have  befallen  Tite  and  he  should  send  for  assistance. 
That  the  Sieur  Giraud  would  not  accomplish  all  he  set 
out  to  do  never  entered  her  head  for  a  moment. 

114 


AFTER  THE   STORM 


Two  hours  passed,  and  the  afternoon  was  drawing 
to  an  end,  when  Tite  stole  like  a  shade  from  the  wood 
and  approached  the  rude  cabin  the  Companions  had  set 
up  for  their  leader.  Marcelle  had  been  on  the  watch, 
and  met  him  before  the  low  portal. 

"  You  have  failed,  Tite  ?  "  she  said  quietly. 

"  Had  I  done  so,  I  should  not  have  come  back,  Mar- 
celle," he  answered,  "  for  methinks  the  success  of  the 
business  meant  much  to  you.  They  wait  below.  I  would 
not  have  them  march  into  camp  till  I  saw  that  all  was 
well." 

"  Right,  as  you  always  are,  Tite,"  she  said  kindly, 
and  with  relief  in  her  voice.  "  How  fares  the  lady  ? 
There  was  no — no  accident  ?  " 

"  Your  wishes  were  enough  to  insure  against  that, 
Marcelle.  There  was  no  accident,  unless  bringing  you 
more  than  you  bargained  for  may  be  called  such,  for, 
besides  my  lady,  I  have  gathered  in  once  more  that  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles." 

"  Monsieur  Vignolles !     And  why " 

"  He  was  in  charge  of  the  escort,  and,  after  we  stam- 
peded them,  'twas  his  wish  to  accompany  us.  By  my 
faith,  'twas  none  to  my  liking,  and  I  would  have  settled 
that  quick  enough,  only  my  lady  desired  him  to  come  as 
well." 

Marcelle  mused  for  a  moment,  then  said: 

"  And  you  did  right  to  humour  her,  Tite,  though  I 
perceive  not  the  meaning  of  it.  One  would  have  ex- 
pected him  to  take  any  other  course  than  coming  here 
after  his  last  experience.  However,  let  them  be  brought 
hither." 

With  that,  Tite  vanished  again  into  the  forest,  but 
his  step,  now  that  he  was  relieved  of  care,  was  heavy 
with  the  fatigue  of  his  long  journey.  Marcelle  stood  a 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


moment  looking  after  him ;  then,  slipping  into  the  cabin, 
threw  a  string  of  black  beads  about  her  neck  and  pushed 
her  disordered  hair  back  from  her  brow — why,  she  could 
scarcely  have  told.  The  next  moment  she  was  again  out- 
side, awaiting  their  coming,  and,  as  she  so  stood,  Crepin 
approached  her,  his  mean  features  betraying  much  ex- 
citement. 

"  Yonder — at  the  bottom  of  the  gorge — Tite  and 
Poncet  and  the  rest,  and  with  them  a  woman  and  one 
other,  Marcelle !  "  he  gasped.  "  From  the  fork  of  the 
great  dead  oak  I  saw  them  as  they  came  up  the  valley." 

Marcelle  nodded. 

"  I  knew,"  she  said  coolly,  whereat  Crepin's  face  fell 
at  the  knowledge  that  he  was  anticipated. 

"  You  know  ?     Then  'twas  you  who " 

"  I  know,  because  I  have  seen  Tite,"  she  said  sharply. 
"  As  for  you,  Crepin,  I  thank  you  for  having  your  eyes 
open,  but  this  is  my  affair;  take  heed  lest  you  meddle 
with  it." 

"  Your  affair,  is  it  ?  "  he  growled.  "  And  what  is 
your  affair  is  ours — is  mine,  methinks.  If  I  know  aught 
of  dress,  these  two  will  have  well-filled  purses ;  but  who 
are  they,  since  you  have  so  managed — your  affair  ?  " 

There  was  a  distinct  sneer  in  his  tone  that  caused  her 
to  turn  on  him  suddenly. 

"  Crepin  Brune,  since  we  have  all  been  together,  ne'er 
have  I  had  aught  apart  from  the  rest,  ne'er  have  I  taken 
share  for  share  with  you  of  what  we  have  laid  hands  on ; 
but  this  is  different,  and  for  this  once  I  will  have  free 
hand  alone.  You  are  too  much  given  of  late  to  inter- 
ference, and  for  it  you  already  have  felt  the  lash.  Op- 
pose me  further  and  I  swear  to  you  I'll  have  you  fairly 
flayed  alive;  that  is  my  answer,  and  bear  you  it  well  in 
mind." 

116 


AFTER   THE  STORM 


"  Then  we're  to  have  naught  from  these  two  ?  "  he 
asked  sullenly,  his  face  lowering  with  the  passion  he 
dared  not  give  vent  to. 

"  We  shall  see,"  she  answered ;  "  perhaps  naught, 
perhaps  much,  but  never  more  nor  less  than  I  say.  This, 
I  repeat  to  you,  shall  be  my  affair  and  mine  alone." 

Crepin  made  no  reply,  but  shrugged  his  shoulders  in 
sulky  fashion,  and  even  as  he  did  so  Tite  and  his  party 
emerged  from  the  trees  and  came  toward  them. 

The  Lady  Agathe  had  forsaken  the  litter  for  the 
climb  up  the  hillside,  and  had  drawn  her  kirtle  close 
about  her  doe-skin  riding-boots  as  she  came  through  the 
wet  grass.  Her  face  bore  witness  to  the  great  fatigue 
she  felt,  yet  she  carried  her  head  proudly  erect  and 
seemed  to  seek  whither  she  was  being  led.  Monsieur 
Vignolles  followed  close  in  her  footsteps,  his  great  boots 
heavy  with  mud  and  his  furred  mantle  thrown  carelessly 
over  one  arm.  His  expression  would  equally  have  be- 
fitted a  man  returning  from  the  hunt  and  one  marching 
to  the  gallows,  yet  his  eye,  beneath  this  apparent  mask, 
sought  what  might  lie  ahead,  precisely  as  did  the  Lady 
Agathe's. 

Marcelle  made  no  move  as  they  came  toward  her. 
To  say  the  truth,  she  felt  as  though  turned  to  the  wood 
of  the  forest  about  her,  yet  she  trembled  slightly  as  she 
noted  the  grace  of  the  Lady  Agathe's  carriage  and  saw 
the  proud  beauty  of  those  blue  eyes  under  the  golden 
sheen  of  her  hair,  which  now  fell  in  some  disorder  from 
her  head-dress.  She  saw,  as  well,  the  soaked  garments 
that  clung  heavily  about  the  Lady  Agathe's  figure,  and 
was  one  moment  overjoyed  at  seeing  her  discomfort,  the 
next  impelled  to  sympathy.  But  not  for  the  world  would 
she  have  advanced  to  meet  this  woman — this  other !  No ; 
the  Lady  Agathe  should  be  made  to  feel  that  here,  in 

117 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


these  Ardennes,  she  was  of  less  consequence  than  the 
least  of  them  all.  She  should  beg,  humbly  beg,  such 
favours  as  she  desired  from  her,  Marcelle.  Then,  per- 
chance, would  she  deign  to  grant  her  requests. 

Thus  came  these  two  women  face  to  face;  the  one, 
tall,  slender,  and  fair  as  the  very  sunbeams  themselves, 
which,  now  the  storm  had  ended,  threw  their  departing 
and  straggling  rays  into  this  green  arbour;  the  other, 
so  slight  as  to  suggest  frailty,  and  dark  as  the  shadows 
of  the  densest  thicket  near  at  hand.  Nor  did  either  of 
them  speak  for  some  space,  being  occupied  with  mutual 
regard.  The  Lady  Agathe  marvelled  at  coming  upon 
such  a  beautiful  creature  in  the  midst  of  such  surround- 
ings, and  Marcelle,  as  she  looked  upon  the  other,  felt 
her  heart  sink.  Surely  no  man,  once  loving  her,  could 
be  aught  than  constant. 

It  was  the  Lady  Agathe  who  first  roused  herself  and 
spoke.  Alas  for  her,  and  for  the  manner  she  saw  fit  to 
adopt ! 

"  You,  then,  are  that  woman  of  the  hills,  Marcelle  the 
Mad,  of  whom  I  have  heard  so  much  ?  " 

"  I  am  Marcelle  the  Mad,"  answered  Marcelle  coldly, 
and,  motioning  the  others  to  draw  back  some  paces, 
turned  abruptly  on  her  heel  and  faced  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles. 

"  So  we  meet  again,  monsieur,  and  this  time,  I  am 
told,  by  your  own  choosing;  a  strange  procedure,  in 
truth." 

"  My  lady  journeyed  this  way,  mademoiselle,"  he 
answered  with  a  bow ;  "  and  as,  on  my  last  visit  here,  I 
remembered  to  have  left  behind,  through  inadvertence, 
something  of  value — to  wit,  my  purse— I  gladly  seized 
upon  the  opportunity  of  company." 

Despite  her  trouble,  the  Lady  Agathe  could  not 
118 


AFTER   THE   STORM 


restrain  a  smile  of  admiration  at  the  man's  coolness. 
Now,  indeed,  she  felt  thankful  that  he  had  come  with 
her,  yet  fearful  for  the  consequences  to  him. 

"  You  may  find  it  no  matter  for  jesting,  Monsieur 
Vignolles,"  said  Marcelle. 

"  Nor  have  I  so  found  it,  mademoiselle,"  he  replied 
seriously  enough.  "  I  am  but  a  poor  man,  and  the  loss 
has  fallen  heavily  upon  me." 

"  Call  me  no  more  mademoiselle ;  reserve  such  airs 
for  those  who  may  be  pleased  therewith,"  cried  Mar- 
celle, with  a  perceptible  hoist  of  the  shoulder  nearest  the 
Lady  Agathe.  "  Here,  where  I  rule,  I  choose  to  be  only 
Marcelle;  let  that  suffice.  But  methinks  you  wore  no 
such  bold  aspect  when  last  you  were  here,  monsieur,  and 
the  empty  sheath  at  your  side  would  be  enough  to  give 
your  words  the  lie.  If  e'er  I  saw  a  man  in  dread  fear 
at  heart,  you  are  that  one." 

For  a  moment  he  seemed  to  meditate  a  light  rejoin- 
der; then  his  glance,  falling  on  the  Lady  Agathe,  in 
whose  face  was  a  real  anxiety,  lest  he  make  matters 
worse,  he  said  simply: 

"  By  my  faith,  the  man  who  would  think  to  hide  his 
thoughts  from  any  woman  would  deserve  the  worst  of 
the  Fates!  You  are  right,  Marcelle.  If  'tis  not  fear 
that  causes  the  trembling  of  my  hand,  'tis,  at  least,  sus- 
pense." 

There  was  not  the  slightest  tremor  in  the  hand  he 
held  toward  her,  but  his  tone  was  sincere,  and  Marcelle's 
attention  had  been  drawn  for  a  moment  by  the  chatter- 
ing arrival  of  the  women  of  the  camp,  who  had  just 
learned  of  the  new  arrivals  and  driven  hither  pell-mell. 
A  gesture  from  her  served  to  quiet  them,  and  they 
grouped  themselves  behind  Tite  and  the  others. 

"  Since   you   have    decided    upon   the   truth,    I   ask 
119 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


you  again,  why  have  you  come  here?"  said  Marcelle 
sharply. 

"  And  in  all  truth  I  will  answer,  madem — Marcelle," 
he  replied  quickly.  "  For  one  reason,  I  came  because 
my  lady,  there,  might,  perchance,  take  some  comfort  in 
my  presence;  for  another,  because  to  have  returned  to 
Namur  with  my  tale  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  And 
now,  that  we  may  save  time  and  trouble,  here  is  my  purse 
— 'tis  my  Lord  the  Constable's  gold,  so  the  spending 
should  be  pleasing  enough — and  here  am  I." 

With  that,  he  extended  the  purse  to  Marcelle,  and 
she,  making  no  move  to  take  it,  he  let  it  fall  at  her  feet, 
and,  folding  his  arms,  half-turned  upon  the  others. 

"  You  may  kill  a  man  who  comes  to  you  of  his  own 
will  with  such  gift,  but  methinks  'twould  lack  the  true 
savour  of  sport,"  he  said,  and  then  turned  again  to  Mar- 
celle. "  But  what  I  would  know  is,  why  you  have  seized 
my  lady,  and  what  mischief  you  mean  to  her." 

And  now  Marcelle  understood  that  the  man's  fear 
which  she  had  detected  was,  in  truth,  not  for  himself, 
but  for  the  Lady  Agathe.  Something  within  her  warmed 
to  him,  and  a  startling  thought  flashed  upon  her.  Was 
it  possible  that  Monsieur  Vignolles  might  have  greater 
regard  for  the  Lady  Agathe  than  the  Sieur  Giraud  had 
led  her  to  believe?  In  truth,  no  man  would  willingly 
place  his  life  in  jeopardy  for  the  mere  whim  of  a  woman. 
She  felt  her  heart  leap  within  her  at  the  thought.  One 
thing  was  certain,  Monsieur  Vignolles  must  be  close- 
kept  till  she  knew.  Perchance  he  would  prove  the  very 
weapon  she  needed. 

What  the  Lady  Agathe  thought  as  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles spoke  was  too  confused  a  jumble  to  admit  of 
any  clear  understanding.  Monseigneur  had  not  erred  in 
saying  they  might  become  better  acquainted  on  that 

120 


AFTER  THE   STORM 


journey,  yet  she  felt  that  she  knew  less  of  the  man  with 
his  every  action.  At  one  moment  he  betrayed  a  frivolous 
lightness ;  at  the  next,  rose  to  a  height  that  compelled 
her  regard.  She  was  in  a  very  perplexity  of  uncertainty, 
and,  moreover,  was  greatly  vexed  at  Marcelle's  complete 
ignoring  of  her  since  she  had  first  spoken. 

Marcelle  spoke  to  Monsieur  Vignolles  quickly 
enough,  for  her  thoughts  had  been  fleeting. 

"  You  are  wise  in  changing  your  manner,  monsieur. 
As  for  the  gold  " — she  touched  it  with  her  small  foot — 
"  we  shall,  indeed,  find  use  for  that ;  and,  for  yourself, 
no  present  harm  shall  befall  you,  provided  always  you 
try  no  tricks." 

She  called  Tite  to  her  side. 

"  Tite,  you  will  answer  to  me  for  this  man's  keeping. 
Let  him  never  be  out  of  the  sight  of  two  of  the  men, 
and  quarter  him  by  night  in  your  own  cave  firmly  se- 
cured. Away  with  him  now,  that  he  may  become  used 
to  it.  That  is  all  you  have  to  fear  at  present,  monsieur," 
she  added. 

"  But,  my  lady  ?  "  cried  Monsieur  Vignolles,  as  Tite 
beckoned  him  to  follow. 

"  The  Lady  Agathe  will  fashion  her  own  lot,"  she 
answered  in  a  low  voice.  "  As  with  you,  it  will  depend 
upon  her  conduct  alone.  Now,  go!  I  will  speak  with 
her." 

With  a  last  look  at  the  Lady  Agathe,  he  followed  Tite 
and  the  half-dozen  who  joined  him,  and  was  swallowed 
up  in  the  deepening  shadows.  But,  as  he  did  so,  a  sigh 
of  relief  escaped  him,  for  he  now  was  certain  that  the 
Lady  Agathe  had  been  seized  for  ransom.  Marcelle  had 
meant  as  much  by  that  allusion  to  her  fate  lying  in  her 
own  hands.  Was  she  prepared  to  pay  compliantly  and 
generously,  then  would  she  soon  be  free.  So  thought 

121 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


Monsieur  Vignolles,  and  his  heart  was  glad  within  him, 
so  that  he  paid  little  heed  to  the  change  which  had  come 
over  his  fortunes,  great  though  that  change  was. 

Of  the  men,  Crepin  and  several  others  remained  to 
see  the  outcome  of  Marcelle's  talk  with  the  Lady  Agathe, 
and  the  women  crowded  them,  in  their  eagerness,  a  little 
closer.  Not  often  had  it  been  given  these  outcasts  to 
look  upon  one  of  the  Lady  Agathe's  station  at  such  close 
range,  and  they  would  make  the  most  of  their  oppor- 
tunity. Marcelle  was  impelled  to  order  them  back,  but 
was  checked  by  the  thought  that  the  other  might  con- 
strue such  action  as  a  favour.  Therefore  she  turned  to 
the  Lady  Agathe  and  said  shortly: 

"  Now  that  Monsieur  Vignolles  is  disposed  of,  I  will 
speak  with  you.  You  are  not  pleased  with  the  position 
in  which  you  find  yourself  ?  " 

She  found  a  certain  enjoyment  in  teasing  this  haughty 
lady  before  her. 

"  Your  question  is  not  deserving  of  reply,"  was  the 
answer.  "  Since  I  assume  that  I  shall  be  forced  to  re- 
main here  some  time,  I  would,  for  the  present,  ask  the 
favour  of  drying  myself  at  some  fire.  Then  I  will  dis- 
cuss terms  with  you,  woman." 

In  truth,  now  that  the  sun  had  set,  the  woodland 
breeze  was  chill  enough,  and  the  Lady  Agathe  shivered 
in  her  soaked  raiment.  But,  again,  there  had  been  that 
unfortunate  tone  of  patronage  or  condescension  in  her 
voice  that  killed  the  sympathy  her  plight  might  have 
roused. 

"  I  dare  swear  you'll  grow  used  to  the  rigours  of  our 
life  ere  many  days,  my  lady,"  said  Marcelle.  "  You  are 
cold  ?  Bah !  How  often  think  you  have  I  lain  down  in 
clothing  wet  as  yours,  when  to  make  any  fire  meant 
bringing  the  very  wolves  from  whom  you  come  down 

122 


AFTER   THE   STORM 


upon  us,  ay,  and  slept,  too,  though  with  the  chills  shaking 
the  very  pine  branches  beneath  me?" 

"  You  have  chosen  the  life  you  lead,  woman,  and  the 
recital  of  its  hardships  has  no  bearing  upon  my  own 
case,"  said  the  Lady  Agathe  coldly. 

"  You  lie  in  saying  that,  woman ! "  cried  Marcelle. 
"  Ay,  if  you  may  fling  '  woman  '  at  me,  as  you  would  to 
the  lowest  menial  under  you,  so  shall  you  have  it  back. 
Here,  in  the  hills,  I  am  as  free  as  you  to  speak  my  mind 
— freer,  if  it  comes  to  that — and  you  lie  when  you  say 
that  I  have  chosen  this  life.  Chosen  it?  Are  you  blind, 
that  you  see  not  it  has  been  forced  upon  me — upon  these 
others  here — by  the  tyranny  of  such  as  you  spring  from  ? 
But  no;  you  are  not  blind;  you  could  see  if  you  would. 
It  is  that  you  cared  not,  so  be  it  your  own  pampered 
wishes  were  fulfilled,  and  a  half-score  vied  with  each 
other  to  perform  your  slightest  bidding.  What  cared 
you  for  the  rain  that  drives  us,  like  so  many  rats,  into 
our  holes,  save  that  it  clashed  with  some  idle  jaunt  you 
had  planned  ?  What  recked  you  of  the  cold  that  pierced 
through  the  rags  we  wore — ay,  and  left  some  gaps 
among  us  that  ne'er  may  be  refilled — you,  with  your 
comforts  and  your  ease,  and  the  warmth  of  a  fire  at 
your  back?  And  you  would  speak  to  me  as  though  you 
lowered  yourself  in  so  doing;  you!" 

She  ended  with  a  contemptuous  shrug  of  the  shoul- 
ders and  an  angry  stamp  of  her  foot.  As  for  the  Lady 
Agathe,  she  was  completely  upset  by  this  outburst  of 
rage,  and  believed  that  the  woman  was  indeed  mad,  as 
she  chose  to  call  herself.  Therefore,  she  would  humour 
her  by  returning  to  the  subject  of  her  ransom.  Surely, 
even  a  madwoman  would  appreciate  that. 

"  I  know  not  why  you  should  accuse  me  of  being 
the  cause  of  your  troubles  and  your  life — "  she  began. 
9  123 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


"  I  said  not  that  you  were,"  interrupted  Marcelle, 
"  but  'tis  your  cursed  party  that  has  brought  us  to  what 
we  are,  and  you  are  none  to  use  such  tone  to  me,  nor 
will  I  stand  it  from  you." 

"  So  be  it;  but  let  us  come  to  a  subject  we  may  hope 
to  agree  upon.  You  have  taken  me  for  ransom,  I  sup- 
pose ?  " 

Marcelle  made  no  answer.  In  truth,  what  other 
reason  was  she  to  give?  Let  the  Lady  Agathe  think  so 
for  the  present,  at  all  events. 

"  Then  what  sum  will  content  you  ?  I  am  rich,  and 
will  pay  what  you  ask,  only  set  me  free." 

Crepin,  who  had  stolen  nearer  than  the  others, 
pricked  up  his  ears  to  catch  the  reply  from  Marcelle's 
lips. 

The  question  was  plain  enough,  and  called  for  a 
straight  answer,  yet  Marcelle  hesitated.  Not  only  had 
she  given  this  phase  of  the  matter  no  thought,  but  she 
felt  that  now,  if  ever,  she  must  temporise.  It  was  true 
that  her  caprice  to  see  this  woman  who  held  the  devo- 
tion of  the  Sieur  Giraud  had  been  gratified,  yet  she 
would  know  her  further;  she  would  observe  her  day  by 
day,  that  she  might  learn  the  charm  she  possessed.  At 
present,  save  for  the  Lady  Agathe's  undeniable  beauty 
and  fairness,  she  had  seen  naught  that  should  so  capti- 
vate a  man.  Then,  too,  the  unexpected  coming  of  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles  had  introduced  a  fresh  element  into  her 
perplexity.  She  would  know  how  far  his  devotion  ex- 
tended; that  she  was  resolved  upon.  There  was,  then, 
no  other  course  but  to  temporise.  But  one  scruple  was 
in  her  mind  at  doing  this :  the  fact  that  the  Sieur  Giraud 
would  believe  she  had  used  the  knowledge  gained  from 
him  for  such  a  base  purpose  as  seizing  the  Lady  Agathe 
for  gold.  But  better  that  than  that  he  should  suspect 

124 


AFTER   THE  STORM 


the  real  cause.  She  raised  her  black  eyes  slowly  till 
they  met  the  blue  ones  of  the  Lady  Agathe. 

"  The  price  of  your  release  rests  not  with  me  alone," 
she  said.  "  Moreover,  your  manner  of  speech  has  roused 
a  fancy  within  me — a  fancy  to  extend  to  you  the  hos- 
pitality of  the  Ardennes.  You  have  never  thought  of 
the  life  we  vagabonds  of  the  hills  lead,  save  with  con- 
tempt— save  with  a  shudder  of  loathing;  but  you  shall 
know  for  yourself  the  other  side  of  the  picture  you 
thought  to  understand.  From  to-night  the  Lady  Agathe, 
for  a  time,  ceases  to  exist — dress,  pride,  all  shall  be  cast 
behind  you — and  you  shall  roam  these  hills  as  one  of 
us,  enduring  our  trials,  ay,  and  sharing  our  pleasures. 
To-night  you  shall  become  one  of  the  Companions  of 
the  Green  Tent;  you  shall  wear  the  badge  of  Marcelle 
the  Mad.  It  is  my  will." 

For  a  moment  the  Lady  Agathe  was  struck  dumb 
with  amazement;  then  her  anger  burst  forth. 

"  And  think  you  for  a  moment  I  will  don  the  dress 
of  your  murderous  company  of  thieves,  woman?  Then 
are  you  more  mad  than  they  say  of  you.  Richly  will  I 
reward  you  for  freedom,  but " 

"  You  are  a  fool,  Agathe,"  cut  in  Marcelle  shortly. 
"  As  you  are  obeyed  in  your  own  household,  so  rule  I 
here." 

"  Agathe !  "  gasped  that  lady. 

"  Ay,  for  such  you  are  become — Agathe,  plain  Agathe 
— unless  you  would  choose  some  other  name  more  to  your 
liking,"  responded  Marcelle,  and,  turning,  called,  "  Petite 
Maman  and  you,  Bonne  Fleuron,  you  who  are  skilled 
with  the  needle,  do  you  equip  this  woman  with  raiment 
such  as  I  myself  wear.  The  velvet  taken  from  the 
bishop's  man  will  do  excellently.  Let  it  be  finished  and 
ready  for  wear  in  the  morning."  Again  she  turned  to 

125 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


the  Lady  Agathe.  "  There  is  my  cabin,  which  now  you 
will  share  with  me.  You  will  find  a  fire,  needing  but  a 
dry  stick  or  two,  at  the  far  end,  Agathe." 

With  that,  she  turned  on  her  heel  and,  picking  up 
the  purse  of  Monsieur  Vignolles,  walked  rapidly  away. 

"  But,  woman,  you  cannot  be  so  mad  as  to  refuse 
the  gold  I  offer  you,"  cried  the  Lady  Agathe.  "  I  care 
not  what  the  amount  be,  only  name  it  and " 

But  Marcelle  had  disappeared  into  the  forest.  With 
a  choking  sob  rising  in  her  throat,  despite  her  efforts 
to  be  brave,  the  Lady  Agathe  started  slowly  for  the  por- 
tal of  the  cabin.  There  was  no  rift  of  light  through  the 
gloom  of  her  despair.  Petite  Maman  and  the  others 
laughed  harshly  as  they  noted  this,  and  departed  to  their 
quarters  to  begin  upon  the  velvet.  It  had  been  good  to 
them  to  see  Marcelle  humble  this  proud  lady. 

Of  a  sudden  the  Lady  Agathe  felt  a  touch  on  the 
arm,  and,  turning  her  head,  beheld  Crepin  standing  at 
her  side.  She  recoiled  at  the  leer  in  his  eye. 

"  My  lady  spoke  of  gold,"  he  said  eagerly.  "  If  she 
is  willing  to  pay  well,  she  need  not  look  to  Marcelle 
alone  for  release." 

"You  mean?" 

"  I  would  first  know  where  my  lady  would  go,"  he 
answered. 

"  There  is  now  but  one  refuge  for  me — Dauphine — 
Dauphine,"  she  said,  and  drew  back  from  him. 

Crepin  whistled  softly. 

"  A  long  journey,  my  lady,  yet  it  might  be  done  if — 
what  would  my  lady  give  to  reach  Dauphine  ?  " 

Despite  the  man's  cunning  look,  his  very  words  gave 
her  a  thrill  of  hope  for  a  moment. 

"  One — two — five  hundred  golden  crowns,"  she  cried ; 
"  anything  to  leave  this  accursed  forest  behind  me." 

126 


AFTER  THE  STORM 


Crepin  smiled  gleefully. 

"  For  five  hundred  golden  crowns  I  would  see  you 
safely  to  hell,  my  lady,"  he  said,  not  noting  that  she 
shrank  farther  from  him  at  his  words,  so  great  was  the 
fortune  opening  before  his  mind.  "  Ay  ;  I  and  two  others 
will  take  you  this  very  night — within  the  hour.  By 
break  of  day  we  may  be  leagues  on  our  way." 

"  And  who — who  are  you  ?  "  she  gasped,  eyeing  him 
closely. 

"  Crepin  is  the  name  I  go  by,  but  that  matters  not," 
he  replied.  "  Ha !  We  shall  see,  Marcelle,  whether  I 
be  flayed  alive.  We  shall  see  if  ever  again  I  suffer  the 
lash  while  the  rest  look  on  and  laugh,  and  the  Sieur 
Giraud " 

"Sieur  Giraud!" 

The  Lady  Agathe  was  upright  enough  now. 

"  Ay,  the  Sieur  Giraud,  curse  him !  He  it  was  who 
first " 

"  And  he  is  here ;  he  is  in  the  camp  ?  " 

Crepin  paused  and  looked  at  her  curiously,  then  said : 

"  He  is  not  in  camp  at  present,  but  he  is  here  with 
us.  Ay,  now  I  do  remember  that  he  must  be  known  to 
you,  since  he  came  to  us  from  Namur;  but  what  has 
that  to  do  with  it?  In  an  hour's  time  I  will  come  for 
you.  All  will  be  at  supper,  and  we  may  steal  away 
unnoticed." 

The  Lady  Agathe  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  I  will  not  go  with  you ;  but — but  I  swear  you 
shall  be  rewarded  if  you  obtain  me  speech  with  the  Sieur 
Giraud  d'Orson,  my  man." 

In  an  instant  Crepin's  joy  had  turned  to  blind  rage, 
as  he  saw  the  expected  fortune  vanishing  into  air — and 
always,  always  was  it  this  Sieur  Giraud  who  came  be- 
tween him  and  the  execution  of  his  will. 

127 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  I  tell  you,  the  Sieur  Giraud  can  do  naught  for  you," 
he  said  fiercely.  "  It  is  I,  alone,  who  can  get  you  safely 
away.  What  would  you  have  him  do  that  I,  another 
Companion,  may  not  ?  " 

"  The  Sieur  Giraud  a  Companion — one  of  your  com- 
pany? I  do  not  believe  it.  He  is  a  man  of  honour." 

Crepin  sneered  almost  in  her  face. 

"  Of  so  much  honour  that,  to  save  his  life,  he  took 
the  Oath  that  binds  him  to  us  during  our  pleasure,"  he 
said  mockingly.  "  Come,  my  lady,  be  sensible.  I  offer 
you  freedom.  I  confess  openly  'tis  for  the  gold  you 
will  give  in  return.  Would  you  trust  the  Sieur 
Giraud,  who  sells  his  very  self,  farther  than  you  would 
me?" 

"  Farther  ?  "  cried  the  Lady  Agathe.  "  Farther  ?  Why, 
man,  now  that  I've  heard  you  speak,  I  wouldn't  trust  you 
at  all.  No;  rather  would  I  place  my  faith  in  Marcelle 
herself,  for  there  is  knavery  writ  large  in  every  line  of 
your  face.  As  for  the  Sieur  Giraud,  I  believe  no  word 
of  what  you  have  said  against  him.  And  now  take 
yourself  off  ere  I  summon  Marcelle  or  some  one  who 
will  know  how  to  deal  with  such  a  traitor  as  you  are." 

The  man's  face  was  livid  with  rage. 

"  Fine  words,  my  lady,"  he  cried.  "  So  you  believe 
no  word  against  the  Sieur  Giraud?  How  chances  it, 
then,  that  he  is  even  now  out  in  the  hills  fighting  another 
band  of  these  Companions  you  so  despise?  I  tell  you, 
the  man  has  become,  not  only  a  Companion,  but  a 
very  chief  of  our  band — as  great  a  one  as  Tite  him- 
self." 

"Go!" 

"  I'll  go  when  I  have  ended,"  he  hissed,  blind  with 
the  fury  within  him.  "  The  Sieur  Giraud,  a  man  of 
honour,  forsooth!  Do  men  of  honour  conspire  against 

128 


AFTER   THE   STORM 


the  lives  of  those  they  have  served  and  those  who  have 
befriended  them?  Listen,  then,  that  you  may  know. 
On  the  morrow  Count  Charles  de  Charolais  comes 
forth  with  some  of  the  army  from  Namur.  This  Sieur 
Giraud,  of  whose  honour  you  prate,  by  a  note  giving 
false  information,  has  lured  him  to  a  spot  where  he  will 
meet  his  death." 

"  Murder !  "  gasped  the  Lady  Agathe. 

"  So  they  will  call  it,  these  Burgundians,"  said  Cre- 
pin,  with  an  ugly  laugh.  "  So  much  for  the  honour  of 
your  Sieur  Giraud  d'Orson,  my  lady." 

"  And  not  enough  by  a  whole  book,  since  it  rests  on 
the  word  of  such  a  cur !  "  she  cried. 

From  below  in  the  valley  arose  the  hoot  of  an  owl. 
Crepin  started. 

"Ah,  'tis  Poncet's  call,  if  I  know  aught  of  Poncet, 
and  he  went  with  the  Sieur  Giraud !  "  he  cried.  "  The 
truth  of  what  I  say  need  not  rest  upon  the  word  of  a 
cur,  then,  for  yonder  returns  the  Sieur  Giraud  and 
his  men.  Come,  my  lady;  you  shall  see  with  your  own 
eyes." 

Rapidly  he  led  the  way  through  the  trees,  and,  trem- 
bling and  dazed,  she  followed  him,  for  there  was  some- 
thing in  her  heart  that  compelled  her  to  refute  his  word, 
if  she  might.  In  a  moment  they  came  out  upon  a  ledge 
overlooking  the  valley. 

"  There,  there ;  do  you  see  ?  "  cried  Crepin,  crouching 
low  and  stretching  forth  his  finger.  "  By  my  faith,  he 
has  done  his  work  well,  for  there  is  Andre,  and  look  at 
those  others !  " 

The  last  the  Lady  Agathe  understood  not ;  but  what 
she  saw  in  the  gathering  twilight  was  the  figure  of  the 
Sieur  Giraud  coming  straight  up  the  slope  toward  her. 
Despite  his  strange  dress,  there  could  be  no  mistake,  and 

129 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


she  even  caught  his  voice  as  he  called  some  direction  to 
the  others.  Behind  him  toiled  a  motley  gathering,  a  half- 
score  bound  together,  and  evidently  prisoners.  Some  of 
the  others  wore  rough  bandages,  as  though  they  had 
suffered  wounds.  Crepin  drew  her  back  forcibly  as  they 
drew  near,  and  the  two  retreated  together. 

"  Now  do  you  believe,  my  lady  ?  "  he  whispered. 

And  she  did  not  answer. 

A  moment  more  and  they  reached  Marcelle's  cabin. 
She  fled  within  the  portal  as  the  tramp  of  feet  warned 
her  that  the  Sieur  Giraud  and  the  others  were  coming 
straight  that  way,  doubtless  to  report  to  Marcelle. 

Outside  the  leafy  entrance  Crepin  waited,  and  to  the 
ears  of  the  Lady  Agathe  came  the  voice  of  the  Sieur 
Giraud  with  only  the  wood  between. 

"  Ah,  Crepin ;  you  see,  we  have  scraped  together  a 
fair  bag,  including  Andre.  Is  Marcelle  within  ?  " 

"  No,  she  has  gone  on  to  the  open  camp  some  time 
ago,"  Crepin  replied,  and  then  added,  in  a  lower  tone, 
but  still  so  that  the  Lady  Agathe  could  hear  every  word : 
"  I  found  a  trusty  messenger  for  your  letter,  Sieur 
Giraud.  By  now,  I'll  be  sworn,  it  is  in  the  hands  of 
Count  Charles." 

"  But  will  he  give  me  the  chance  to  come  near  him  ?  " 
replied  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  I  believe  it,  he  has  spoken  so  often  of  you  of  late. 
Methinks  you  are  the  only  one  who  could  approach  him 
in  that  way.  Ay,  I  believe  you'll  have  the  chance  you 
look  for." 

"  Then,  thank  God  the  morrow  will  see  the  end  of 
this !  "  had  cried  the  Sieur  Giraud,  and,  with  that,  had 
passed  on  toward  the  camp  with  his  men. 

As  their  'footsteps  died  away,  Crepin  called  her  softly, 
and  the  Lady  Agathe  came  to  the  portal. 

130 


AFTER   THE   STORM 


"  Now,  do  you  believe,  my  lady,  and  will  you  give  me 
the  task  of  setting  you  free,  or  do  you  still  cleave  to  your 
man  of  honour  ?  " 

And,  after  a  moment,  she  had  made  answer: 

"  I  will  not  go  with  you,  no ;  a  thousand  times,  no ! 
Yet  my  senses  teach  me  that  for  once  you  have  foiled 
Nature  by  speaking  the  truth." 

He  uttered  a  curse  and  seemed  about  to  add  more, 
then  suddenly  slipped  away  into  the  growing  darkness. 
The  next  moment  she  saw  the  reason  of  his  flight,  as 
Marcelle  pushed  aside  the  hanging  leaves  and  entered. 
The  Lady  Agathe  said  no  word,  but  threw  herself  upon 
the  bed  of  pine  in  the  corner,  while  Marcelle  threw  some 
wood  on  the  fire  and  stood  in  its  blaze. 

"  In  truth,  this  was  a  very  hell  into  which  she  had 
fallen,"  the  Lady  Agathe  thought,  for  she  made  no  doubt 
that  this  creature  Marcelle  was  in  this  murderous  plot 
against  Count  Charles  with  the  rest.  And  the  Sieur 
Giraud !  It  seemed  that  her  heart  must  burst  within  her 
at  the  thought. 

Of  a  sudden  there  was  a  quick  step  without,  and  the 
voice  of  Poncet  came  through  to  them: 

"  The  Sieur  Giraud  would  see  the  Lady  Agathe  at 
the  earliest  moment." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  himself  never  had  come  near  the 
quarters  of  the  women. 

Marcelle  trembled.  At  last  it  had  come,  this  meeting 
she  had  dreaded. 

The  Lady  Agathe  raised  her  head  weakly,  but  her 
voice  rang  steady  and  clear. 

"  The  Lady  Agathe  has  no  wish  to  see  the  Sieur 
Giraud  d'Orson,"  she  said,  and  listened  for  a  moment 
till  she  heard  the  man's  steps  retreating.  Then  she  fell 
back  upon  the  branches. 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


Marcelle  was  at  her  side  with  one  bound. 

"You  have  no  wish  to  see  the  Sieur  Giraud — you!" 
she  cried,  and  seized  the  Lady  Agathe's  hand  almost 
fiercely ;  but  it  was  cold  to  her  touch. 

The  Lady  Agathe  had  swooned. 


132 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    STILL,    SMALL    VOICE 

AND  now,  of  a  sudden,  a  great  flood  of  compas- 
sion swelled  high  in  the  heart  of   Marcelle, 
sweeping  before  it  all  other  feeling  she  had 
toward  the  Lady  Agathe.    The  very  sympathy 
which  had  been  killed  in  its  birth,  by  reason  of  her 
haughtiness,  again  sprang  into  life  as  Marcelle  knelt 
beside  her  cold  and  senseless  form. 

With  a  sharp  cry,  she  half  carried,  half  dragged  the 
Lady  Agathe  near  to  the  fire,  which  now  blazed  strongly, 
sending  its  flying  sparks  and  curling  wisps  of  smoke  up- 
ward toward  the  hole  in  the  thatched  roof.  And  now, 
with  the  swiftness  and  aptitude  born  of  her  many  days 
of  self-reliance,  she  deftly  removed  the  clinging,  sodden 
bodice,  kirtle  and  under-dress,  and,  with  a  coarse  cloth, 
briskly  rubbed  the  soft  white  skin,  turning  the  Lady 
Agathe  so  that  the  heat  of  the  fire  might  aid  her 
efforts. 

At  length  she  was  rewarded  by  a  sigh  and  a  con- 
vulsive movement  of  the  hand,  that  told  of  returning 
consciousness,  and  she  saw  that  the  Lady  Agathe's  eyes 
had  opened  and  that  she  was  regarding  her  weakly.  But 
Marcelle  gave  voice  to  no  maudlin  expressions  of  thank- 
fulness, as  many  women  would  have  done.  Instead,  she 
took  from  its  wooden  peg  a  long,  loose  robe  of  wool — 
her  own  sleeping  dress — and  enveloped  the  Lady  Agathe 
in  its  warm  folds.  Then  she  stepped  to  the  door  and, 
thrusting  her  head  forth,  gave  a  peculiar  low  cry.  In 

133 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


a  moment's  time  the  woman  Bonne  Fleuron,  running  in 
answer  from  the  near-by  cabin  of  the  other  women, 
stood  before  her,  and  to  her  she  gave  some  hurried 
directions,  so  that  she  left  as  suddenly  as  she  had 
come. 

Meanwhile,  the  Lady  Agathe  had  been  slowly  re- 
covering her  lost  senses.  She  lay  quite  still  in  her  snug 
wrapping,  content — oh,  so  content! — to  feel  the  return- 
ing glow  that  was  spreading  over  her ;  but  her  eyes  were 
upon  Marcelle,  and  on  her  face  was  a  look  of  much  be- 
wilderment. To  her  ears  was  borne  upon  the  night  air 
the  hum  of  voices  and  an  occasional  shout  or  burst  of 
laughter  from  the  camp.  Above  the  leafy  rustle  over- 
head, she  heard  the  raucous  cry  of  a  night-hawk  as  he 
sought  his  prey,  and  the  solemn  lay  of  the  tree-toads  as 
they  welcomed  the  onset  of  darkness;  yet  these  sounds 
she  scarce  noticed.  The  night  stillness  of  the  great  forest 
had  cast  its  spell  upon  her,  and  one  great  and  universal 
hush  seemed  to  pervade  all  the  world.  For  a  moment 
she  found  herself  wondering  if  it  were  possible  that  at 
court  they  were  even  now  at  supper,  under  the  glare  of 
a  hundred  candles,  and  merry  with  the  clash  of  plate  and 
the  chatter  of  many  voices. 

As  she  lay  musing  upon  this,  Bonne  Fleuron  returned 
and  handed  Marcelle  two  basins  of  stewed  meat,  from 
which  the  steam  rose  slowly.  Marcelle  dismissed  her 
with  a  word  of  thanks,  and  came  quickly  to  the  Lady 
Agathe. 

"  Eat,  Agathe ! "  she  said  shortly,  and  proffered  her 
one  of  the  basins.  "  The  hot  flesh  of  the  roebuck  is  good 
for  such  ailments  as  yours ;  eat ! " 

And  the  Lady  Agathe  took  it  from  her  with  no  more 
thought  of  resenting  such  use  of  her  name,  though,  in 
truth,  it  still  rankled  within  her. 

134 


THE   STILL,   SMALL   VOICE 


"  I  thank  you,  Marcelle,"  she  said  simply,  and  fell 
to  sipping  the  broth,  while  Marcelle  seated  herself  op- 
posite her  and  did  likewise. 

And,  indeed,  the  steaming  mixture  did  much  to  put 
new  life  into  the  Lady  Agathe's  veins,  for  the  health 
was  strong  upon  her,  and  with  health  goes  hunger.  She 
paused  not  till  she  had  made  an  end  of  the  contents  of 
the  basin  and  of  the  coarse  bread  which  had  served  for 
cover. 

As  for  Marcelle,  she  ate  more  slowly,  with  her  gaze 
upon  the  fire  and  seemingly  lost  in  thought,  but  at  last 
she,  too,  set  down  the  empty  basin  and,  raising  her  head, 
regarded  the  other  with  a  searching  look. 

"  Why  would  you  not  see  the  Sieur  Giraud,  Agathe  ?  " 
she  asked  of  a  sudden. 

The  Lady  Agathe  drew  her  robe  closer  about  her  and 
shuddered.  Yet  she  hesitated  a  moment  before  replying 
and  in  that  moment  she  came  to  the  conclusion  that  to 
tell  Marcelle  of  her  discovery  would,  in  truth,  be  mad- 
ness. Did  Marcelle  suspect  her  of  knowing  aught  of 
this  plot  against  Count  Charles,  she  trembled  at  the 
thought  of  what  the  woman  might  do.  Yet  there  was 
one  reason  she  might  give  in  reply  which  would  appear 
consistent  with  her  former  attitude. 

"  That  the  Sieur  Giraud  should  have  sunk  to  what 
he  has  become — a  common  outlaw — is  sufficient  answer 
to  your  question,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  And  how  know  you  what  he  has  become  ?  "  asked 
Marcelle,  "  or,  even  admitting  that  it  be  true,  what 
know  you  of  the  reasons  of  his  fall,  as  you  term  it  ?  Ha ! 
A  strange  notion  of  loyalty  you  possess,  Agathe,  since 
whate'er  the  man  has  come  to,  it  has  been  because  of 
you." 

A  moment  before  Marcelle  would  have  laughed  at  the 
135 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


thought  that  she  should  upbraid  the  Lady  Agathe  in  this 
fashion,  and  it  was,  in  truth,  a  strange  move  in  the  game 
she  played  so  to  recall  this  other  to  her  duty.  Yet  she 
found  herself  taking  a  very  great  measure  of  pleasure 
in  thus  taunting  her. 

"  I  spoke  not  idly ;  nor  would  I  accuse  any  man  with- 
out proof  of  my  words,"  said  the  Lady  Agathe.  "  That 
the  Sieur  Giraud  numbers  himself  among  your  company, 
I  make  no  'doubt,  since  within  the  hour  I  saw  him  re- 
turning from  some  expedition  at  the  head  of  a  band  of 
Companions.  God  knows,  I  need  not  your  reproaches  to 
remind  me  that  it  was  through  me  he  came  to  his  ruin 
with  Count  Charles,  yet  I  see  not  how  you  should  be  so 
informed,  unless " 

"  Unless  the  Sieur  Giraud  himself  so  made  it  known," 
interrupted  Marcelle.  "  Your  memory  is  but  short-lived ; 
you  forget  the  letter  which,  destined  for  you,  fell  under 
my  eyes  first,  Agathe.  The  Sieur  Giraud,  in  the  despair 
of  his  disgrace,  did  tell  me  that  a  woman  was  concerned 
therein.  The  inference  was  clear,  was  it  not  ?  " 

"  You  read  that  letter,  Marcelle  ?  Then  you — you 
know?" 

"  Yes,  I  know,  Agathe,"  answered  Marcelle  simply, 
and  for  some  moments  the  two  sat  silent.  Then  Mar- 
celle spoke  again  very  quietly. 

"  You  loved  the  Sieur  Giraud,  Agathe  ?  " 

On  the  Lady  Agathe's  face  was  another  shadow  be- 
sides those  thrown  by  the  flaring  fire-light,  and  her  an- 
swer was  slow  in  coming. 

"  I  do  not  know.  Why  I  should  so  speak  of  this  with 
you,  Marcelle,  I  know  not,  save  that  he  is  here  and  one 
of  you.  One  thing  I  may  swear,  that  ne'er  did  I  esteem 
man  more  highly  than  I  did  the  Sieur  Giraud  d'Orson, 
nor  more  greatly  prize  any  man's  attachment,  and  now 

136 


THE  STILL  SMALL  VOICE 


that  he  has  come  to  this,  I  feel  that  the  very  heart  has 
been  torn  from  me.  Yet  I  may  not  be  sure  that  this  was 
love." 

Marcelle  looked  at  her  with  wide-opened  eyes  in 
which  blazed  a  fierce  light  of  resentment. 

"  And  so,  uncertain  of  your  very  self,  uncertain 
whether  the  blind  devotion  of  the  Sieur  Giraud  ever 
should  have  its  reward  from  you,  you  still  could  demand 
a  service  of  him  which  might  mean,  and  has  resulted, 
in  his  ruin  ?  Oh,  you  need  not  look  surprise  at  me !  I 
know  the  tale  well  enough — ay,  the  Sieur  Giraud  has 
told  me,  if  it  comes  to  that.  Why  should  he  not?  All 
was  at  an  end  and  there  is  relief  in  the  mere  telling  of 
such  torment  as  he  suffered.  Bah!  You  have  done  a 
thing  that  makes  me  hate  you,  Agathe,  for  even  I,  Mar- 
celle the  Mad,  Marcelle,  the  scorned  outcast,  would  accept 
no  such  homage  from  a  man  if  I  might  not  freely  give 
myself  up  to  him  body  and  soul." 

The  Lady  Agathe  looked  at  her  curiously,  but  Mar- 
celle seemed  to  have  forgotten  her  as  she  spoke  the  last 
word,  and  her  eyes  glowed  even  as  the  charring  wood 
before  her. 

"  Ay,  I  would  pay — O  God,  how  I  would  pay !  "  the 
Lady  Agathe  heard  her  mutter  passionately  and  saw  her 
small  hands  clench  sharply. 

The  Lady  Agathe  was  unused  to  such  outbursts ;  she 
found  herself  understanding  less  and  less  of  this  strange 
creature,  who  one  moment  ministered  to  her  comforts 
with  all  gentleness,  the  next  became  a  perfect  virago. 
It  was  not  madness  from  which  this  girl  suffered ;  of  that 
she  was  now  convinced,  and  she  could  but  attribute  such 
capriciousness  to  the  wild  and  turbulent  existence  she 
led.  Of  what  use,  then,  would  be  any  attempt  at  argu- 
ment with  her,  even  did  she  not  deem  it  beneath  her  to 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


take  any  notice  of  the  lesson  Marcelle  had  so  presumptu- 
ously read  her? 

As  this  passed  through  the  Lady  Agathe's  mind,  Mar- 
celle rose  and  set  about  arranging  the  pine  branches  in 
two  heaps,  one  on  either  side  of  the  fire.  On  these  she 
spread  some  rough  blankets  which  she  selected  from  a 
pile  in  the  corner,  and  then  threw  another  armful  of  wood 
upon  the  fire.  All  this  she  did  mechanically  and  with 
never  a  thought  of  the  service  she  was  so  rendering  the 
other,  for  her  mind  was  teeming  with  many  new  fancies. 
When  she  had  made  an  end  of  her  task,  she  turned  to 
the  Lady  Agathe  and,  pointing  to  one  of  the  rude  beds, 
said  shortly: 

"  You  will  be  tired  after  the  day's  travel ;  it  is  best 
that  you  take  some  rest  now." 

With  the  obedience  of  a  child,  the  Lady  Agathe 
moved  to  the  bed  and  crept  beneath  the  blankets,  and  a 
moment  later  saw  Marcelle  roll  herself  in  her  own  and 
settle  into  quiet.  Then  the  Lady  Agathe  spoke  of  a 
sudden. 

"  You  would  sleep  in  your  dress,  Marcelle  ?  I  have 
taken " 

The  voice  of  Marcelle  came  almost  petulantly  from 
beneath  the  coverings. 

"  It  is  nothing ;  nor  is  it  the  first  time  I  have  done  so. 
You  may  not  wear  your  own  dress ;  therefore  have  done 
with  talk  and  seek  such  sleep  as  you  may." 

No  more  said  the  Lady  Agathe ;  but  turned  her  face 
from  the  fire  and  closed  her  eyes.  In  truth,  she  was 
worn  with  fatigue,  yet  it  was  that  fatigue  which  per- 
vades all  the  body  with  an  aching  dulness  and  renders 
sleep,  which  would  be  so  welcome,  impossible.  Any 
position  she  adopted  seemed  attended  with  the  same  dis- 
comfort, for  the  bed,  while  soft  and  yielding  to  her  body, 

138 


THE  STILL  SMALL  VOICE 


kept  her  awake  by  its  very  strangeness.  Nor  is  it  proba- 
ble that  even  had  she  suffered  no  physical  torment  she 
would  have  found  repose  coming  easily  to  her  that  night, 
in  the  flood  of  uncertainty  and  fear  that  possessed  her 
mind.  She  had  indeed  escaped  the  fate  that  had  seemed 
so  near;  no  longer  need  she  dread  that  marriage  with 
Monsieur  Vignolles,  yet  she  found  herself  asking  if  she 
had  not,  indeed,  fallen  from  bad  to  worse  plight.  That 
she  should  even  ask  the  question  of  herself;  that  any 
predicament  should  not  be  preferable  to  what  she  had 
escaped  was  a  matter  for  wonderment  to  her;  but  she 
confessed  that  it  was  so.  Was  it  because  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles had  chosen  to  face  the  dangers  in  coming  to  this 
place,  rather  than  desert  her?  Was  it  because  of  a  vague 
liking  for  this  man  they  would  have  forced  upon  her,  a 
liking  which  had  arisen  under  the  most  adverse  condi- 
tions and  against  her  own  will  ?  Or  was  it  that  the  terror 
she  felt  in  the  presence  of  this  wretched  company  out- 
weighed all  other  considerations  with  her?  She  knew 
not. 

And  then  the  Sieur  Giraud,  the  one  on  whom  she 
would  have  sworn  she  might  depend,  even  to  his  very 
life — to  find  him  sunk  to  his  present  level,  a  Companion 
of  the  Green  Tent,  and  with  foul  murder  in  his  heart ! 

What  was  to  be  the  outcome  of  it  all  ?  To  what  end 
did  this  Marcelle  the  Mad  refuse  to  set  a  price  on  her 
deliverance  ? 

So  the  minutes  lengthened  into  hours  and  still  she 
tossed  restlessly  from  side  to  side,  ever  thinking,  think- 
ing with  eyes  that  would  fly  open  to  strain  into  the  gloom 
overhead,  as  though  they  would  find  the  solution  there. 

The  fire  died  to  a  mass  of  dull-glowing  ashes  and 
with  it  seemed  to  expire  the  last  remnant  of  the  forti- 
tude she  so  had  striven  to  maintain.  She  turned  face 
10  139 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


downward  and  the  tears  came  in  one  great  despairing 
rush  that  shook  her  very  frame  with  an  agonised  relief. 

"  Don't— don't  do  that !  " 

The  Lady  Agathe  turned  suddenly  to  see  that  Mar- 
celle  was  sitting  upright  and  pointing  a  peremptory 
finger  at  her. 

"  Don't  do  that ! "  she  repeated,  reaching  over  and 
throwing  more  wood  upon  the  fire.  "  Why  should  you 
weep  ?  There's  no  excuse  for  it.  I  won't  have  it,  do  you 
hear  ?  I  won't  have  it !  " 

She  spoke  disjointedly  and  in  a  pettish  tone,  and  with 
the  returning  flicker  of  the  flames  the  Lady  Agathe  saw 
that  her  eyes,  too,  were  wide  open  and  bore  no  traces  of 
sudden  awakening. 

"  You — you  have  not  been  asleep,  Marcelle  ?  "  she 
said. 

"Asleep?" 

Marcelle  gave  a  harsh  little  laugh. 

"  I  asleep,  with  the  torture  my  mind  gives  me  ?  No ; 
since  you  have  asked  it,  not  for  a  moment  have  my  eyes 
closed;  not  a  motion  of  yours,  as  you  tossed  about, 
escaped  me,  for  I,  too,  have  thoughts  perchance  as  tor- 
turing as  your  own,  Agathe.  But  I  do  not  give  way  to 
weeping,  nor  shall  you.  I  cannot  bear  it." 

"  I  meant  not  to  disturb  you,  Marcelle ;  and,  indeed,  I 
believed  that  I  wept  not  aloud.  But  as  soon  bid  the 
wind  cease  its  sighing  through  the  trees  without,  as  think 
to  bridle  the  heart-ache  within  me  at  your  will.  If  in  my 
misery  I  have  disturbed  you,  remember  I  am  not  here 
by  my  own  desire,  but  by  yours.  As  to  the  thoughts 
which  have  kept  sleep  from  you,  I  know  naught,  but 
compare  not  your  suffering  to  mine  nor  your  condition 
to  my  own  lonely  plight." 

"  And  do  you  think  that  you  alone  may  feel  this  loneH- 
140 


THE   STILL   SMALL   VOICE 


ness  ?  "  asked  Marcelle  quickly.  "  You  are — and  so  you 
shall  be  while  it  pleases  me — one  of  us,  a  Companion  of 
the  Green  Tent ;  but  when  that  is  ended  you  shall  be  free 
to  go  unmolested,  for  so  I  have  decided.  You  feel  the 
loneliness  of  your  position,  but  what  think  you  I  feel,  I, 
who  must  live  on  day  by  day  knowing  that  no  such  relief 
awaits  me  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Marcelle ;  you  are  not 
forced  to  live  in  these  hills  as  you  do." 

"  No ;  you  do  not  understand  me,  or  you  would  not 
say  that.  What  manner  of  heart  think  you  I  have  if  you 
mean  that  I  might  desert  these  people  with  whom  I  have 
cast  my  lot  ?  " 

"  The  very  name  your  company  has  adopted  be- 
tokens a  fellowship,"  said  the  Lady  Agathe.  "  More- 
over, as  I  know,  there  are  other  women  here." 

"  Yes ;  there  are  other  women  here ;  but  in  God's 
name,  what  think  you  I  have  in  common  with  them,  save 
the  hatred  we  all  bear  your  people  and  most  of  all  the 
Count  de  Charolais?  And  so  it  is  with  all  of  them.  I 
help  them  with  such  projects  as  they  may  have  in  mind ; 
I  try  to  hearten  them  when  they  would  give  over  to  dis- 
couragement, and  I  see  that  fair  play  is  had  among  them. 
In  return,  they  yield  me  a  kind  of  blind  obedience  and 
devotion ;  there  it  ends.  For  among  them  I  am  as  desti- 
tute of  companionship  as  though  living  alone  in  these 
Ardennes  woods." 

The  Lady  Agathe  was  nonplussed.  Such  talk  as  this 
she  had  not  looked  for,  but  the  ring  of  truth  was  in  every 
word  Marcelle  had  said.  Despite  herself  and  despite 
their  relative  positions,  the  Lady  Agathe  felt  that  a 
tenderness  was  arising  within  her  for  this  strange  girl. 

"  And  it  was  this — this  sense  of  being  alone  that  kept 
sleep  from  you,  Marcelle?"  she  asked. 

141 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


"  Yes ;  that  and  I  know  not  how  many  other  crowding 
thoughts  besides,"  replied  Marcelle,  her  great  eyes  fixed 
on  the  other's  face,  and  then,  seeming  to  take  a  sudden 
resolve,  "  Listen,  you  who  cannot  understand  my  loneli- 
ness. While  you  moved  restlessly  yonder,  I  heard,  as  I 
have  said,  for  I,  too,  was  fighting  with  myself  and  all 
because  of  you.  '  What  had  induced  me  to  have  you 
brought  here ;  why  had  I  quartered  you  here  in  my  own 
cabin;  why  were  you  on  the  morrow  to  become  a  Com- 
panion ? '  Such  were  the  questions  I  tried  to  solve  in 
such  calm  as  I  could  force  myself  to  assume,  and  in  the 
end  the  answer  came  clear  and  unmistakable." 

The  Lady  Agathe  raised  herself  upon  her  elbow. 

"  And  what  was  it,  Marcelle  ?  Why  had  you  done 
these  things  ?  " 

Marcelle  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"  Because — because  I  was  dying  of  solitude,  dying  of 
this  going  on  for  ever  with  never  one  near  me  to  whom 
I  might  talk  freely.  Ah,  do  not  smile,  Agathe." 

"  I  am  not  smiling ;  go  on,  Marcelle,"  was  the  quiet 
answer. 

"  And  because  I  felt  that  if  it  went  on  any  longer,  I 
should,  in  truth,  go  mad  as  they  call  me.  I — I  thought 
'twas  for  another  reason — but  that  matters  not.  I  know 
now  'twas  the  great  cry  within  me  for  companionship; 
the  yearning  groping  of  my  hand  in  the  darkness  of  isola- 
tion for  the  sustaining  grasp  of  another.  Night  after 
night  have  I  lain  here  conscious  of  this  great  void  in  my 
life  and  enduring  tortures  till  sheer  weariness  brought 
relief.  To-night  there  came  over  me  a  great  peace,  when 
I  had  come  to  know,  to  understand.  Even  your  uneasy 
tossing  about  fell  with  pleasant  sound  upon  my  ears,  for, 
thank  God,  I  was  no  longer  alone !  And  then  you  wept, 
and  I  could  not  bear  that.  O  Agathe,  can  you  not  see 

142 


THE   STILL   SMALL  VOICE 


how  it  is  ?  Now  that  I  have  had  you,  I  cannot  let  you 
go.  Forget  what  I  have  said  that  may  have  been  harsh 
in  tone.  You  shall  stay  here  with  me ;  you  shall  be  one 
of  us ;  but  you  shall  also  be  as  myself,  and  your  desires 
I  will  place  above  my  own,  I  swear  it !  Only  speak  with 
me,  speak  with  me,  and  sometimes  look  upon  me  kindly 
if  you  may,  for  I  am  starving." 

Her  slight  figure  shook  with  the  intensity  of  her  emo- 
tion. As  for  the  Lady  Agathe,  a  strange  look  had  come 
into  her  face,  and  her  eyes  shone  soft  in  the  fire-light, 
soft  as  the  tender  dawn  of  compassion  may  render  such 
eyes  as  hers.  She  thought  not  of  her  position  now ;  nor 
of  those  troubles  of  her  own  which  had  so  grievously 
assailed  her  a  short  time  before;  but  only  of  this  trem- 
bling little  figure  sitting  bolt-upright  before  her,  with  a 
very  fever  of  longing  in  her  dry  eyes  and  mute  pleading 
in  the  half-opened  lips. 

The  Lady  Agathe  threw  back  the  corner  of  her 
covering. 

"  Come,  Marcelle !  "  she  said. 

The  next  instant,  with  a  cry  of  transport,  Marcelle 
had  flown  to  her  and  was  sobbing  forth  her  very  soul  in 
her  arms. 

And  then  for  a  long  time  they  lay  quiet  and  the  mind 
of  the  Lady  Agathe  was  occupied  indeed.  Had  Fate  had 
a  hand  in  bringing  her  hither  that  she  might  prevent  this 
dastardly  murder  of  Count  Charles?  Marcelle  had  said 
that  if  she  (the  Lady  Agathe)  were  kind  she  might  ask 
anything  of  her,  and  as  she  felt  the  tumultuous  flutter  of 
that  little  heart  next  her  own,  the  Lady  Agathe  believed 
that  she  had  meant  it.  If  God  had  appointed  her  his 
agent  in  thwarting  this  foul  deed,  then  would  the  Lady 
Agathe  face  any  suffering  herself  without  a  murmur. 
Not  that  her  heart  was  filled  with  any  great  love  for 

H3 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


Count  Charles;  but  because  she  was  a  good  and  true 
woman  and  turned  from  the  shedding  of  blood  with  hor- 
ror. With  her,  to  think  was  to  act. 

Very  gently  she  took  Marcelle  by  the  shoulders  and 
held  her  from  her  so  that  she  might  look  into  her 
eyes. 

"  Marcelle,  you  promise  me  much  in  return  for  lit- 
tle," she  said.  "  For  kind  words,  which  I  am  not  minded 
to  deny  you,  you  offer  to  place  my  own  desires  above 
your  own.  So  be  it !  I  will  fulfil  my  part  of  the  bargain ; 
from  you  I  demand  the  abandonment  of  this  plot  against 
the  life  of  the  Count  de  Charolais." 

The  form  of  Marcelle  straightened  suddenly  in  her 
arms. 

"The  plot  against — what  can  you  know  of  that?" 
she  gasped  in  a  frightened  tone. 

"  Enough  to  make  me  loathe  the  very  speech  of  it 
with  you,  Marcelle.  Ah,  how  can  you,  with  such  a 
heart  as  you  have  shown  me,  how  can  you  plan  such  sin- 
ful deed  as  this  ?  " 

"  I— I  have  not  planned  it !  "  cried  Marcelle.  "  But 
how  have  you  learned  of  this  ?  " 

And  at  that,  the  Lady  Agathe  told  her  of  all  that 
she  had  discovered  from  Crepin,  while  Marcelle  lay  in 
her  arms  and  only  by  an  occasional  gasp  or  exclama- 
tion indicated  that  she  heard.  As  the  Lady  Agathe 
ended,  she  drew  slightly  back  from  her. 

"  So  Crepin  would  have  sold  me,  would  he  ? "  she 
cried  angrily.  "  For  gold  he  would  have  taken  you 
from  me.  By  my  faith,  he  shall  pay " 

"  But,  Marcelle,  that  is  not  what  should  concern  you," 
said  the  Lady  Agathe.  "This  attempt  upon  Count 
Charles  must  be  stopped.  You  must  stop  it." 

"  I  stop  it — I  ? "  said  Marcelle  in  a  dazed  voice. 
144 


THE  STILL,  SMALL  VOICE 


"  You  know  not  what  you  ask ;  nor,  if  it  comes  to  that, 
would  I  interfere  if  I  could." 

The  Lady  Agathe  looked  the  horror  she  felt  into 
Marcelle's  eyes. 

"  You  would  not  interfere — you  would  stoop  to  mur- 
der in  your  hatred  of  any  man?  I  cannot  believe  it, 
Marcelle." 

"  Murder !  'Tis  a  term  that  lends  itself  to  easy  mean- 
ing. When  Count  Charles  rides  down  a  half-score  such 
wretches  as  we  are,  and  hangs  them  to  the  very  trees  be- 
neath which  they  have  lived,  'tis  just  punishment  upon 
the  rebellious  outlaws;  but  if  the  chance  falls  the  other 
way — ah,  then  'tis  murder!  The  Companions  of  the 
Green  Tent  are,  to  them,  as  fair  game  as  the  wild  boar 
of  the  forest.  Be  it  so!  If  the  boar  turns  when  hard 
pressed,  they  need  not  be  surprised." 

"  But  this  blow  you  speak  for  is  no  fair  one,  de- 
livered in  self-defence,"  cried  the  Lady  Agathe.  "  You 
would  lure  a  man  to  his  death  with  fair  but  lying 
promises." 

"  With  the  method  I  have  had  naught  to  do,  as  I 
have  told  you,"  answered  Marcelle.  "  But  forget  not  one 
thing,  Agathe.  Against  us,  ere  long,  will  come  that 
trained  army  from  Namur.  We  must  fight  back  with 
such  weapons  as  we  have." 

"  Weapons !  Say  rather  fraud  and  assassination.  O 
God!  How  is  it  that  one  like  the  Sieur  Giraud  could 
ever  be  the  implement  for  such  crime?  What  hellish 
spell  have  you  cast  over  him  ?  " 

"  The  Sieur  Giraud " 

Marcelle  checked  herself  suddenly.  She  had  been  on 
the  point  of  assuring  the  Lady  Agathe  that  he  was  but  a 
cat's-paw  in  the  game  Crepin  played;  but  it  flashed 
through  her  mind  that  to  do  so  would  bring  them  to- 

H5 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


gether  at  the  first  opportunity.  The  Lady  Agathe  would 
inform  him  of  the  use  that  had  been  made  of  him  and 
never  would  he  rest  till  he  had  killed  Crepin.  This  might 
not  be,  for  Crepin  must  live  to  perform  his  task. 

The  Lady  Agathe  noted  not  Marcelle's  sudden  hesi- 
tation. 

"  Ay ;  the  Sieur  Giraud,  one  whom  a  fortnight  ago 
methought  the  most  upright  man  I  had  ever  known — 
now  become  the  lowest  thing  on  earth,  a  common  cut- 
throat. But,  Marcelle,  let  us  not  waste  a  moment  in  idle 
talk.  Oh,  I  beg  of  you  let  not  Crepin  go  upon  this 
errand!  You  are  leader  here;  what  you  say  they  will 
obey.  Have  him  seized;  have  the  Sieur  Giraud  seized, 
and  both  held  till  the  morrow  be  over." 

"  Agathe,  you  do  not  understand,"  said  Marcelle.  "  I 
would  that  you  had  asked  me  something  I  might  per- 
form ;  but  this  may  not  be.  I  believe  that  few  are  in  the 
plot  now;  I  believe  that  Crepin  will  keep  it  so,  if  pos- 
sible, that  he  may  have  the  greater  reward  and  glory ; 
but  if  I  should  try  to  oppose  him,  he  would  turn  upon  me. 
He  would  inform  the  rest  of  what  I  tried  to  prevent,  I, 
Marcelle,  their  leader,  and  the  greatest  hater  of  this 
Count  Charles  among  them  all.  And  what  think  you 
would  be  the  end  ?  They  would  tear  me  limb  from  limb, 
free  Crepin  and  any  other  I  might  have  seized,  and  the 
plot  would  go  on  as  before.  No;  it  may  not  be!  Nor, 
as  I  have  said,  would  I  raise  one  finger  to  save  Count 
Charles's  life.  I  have  suffered  too  much  at  his  hands  and 
the  world  will  be  the  better  for  his  riddance." 

A  moment  the  Lady  Agathe  held  silent.  Then  she 
pushed  Marcelle  from  her  and  said  coldly: 

"  I  have  but  one  other  request.  Will  you  tell  me  the 
spot  where  this  crime  is  to  take  place  ?  " 

"  Why  would  you  know  ?  " 
146 


THE   STILL.   SMALL  VOICE 


The  Lady  Agathe  fixed  Marcelle  with  a  look  before 
which  she  quailed. 

"  Because  I  am  a  woman  in  whom  remains  some  con- 
science ;  because  I  know  that  if  I  sat  idle  while  this  mur- 
der was  being  done,  there  is  a  God  above  who  would 
judge  me  as  pitilessly  as  he  would  the  very  murderer 
himself.  Think  you  I  could  for  the  rest  of  my  life  bear 
up  under  such  burden?  Think  you  that  by  day  I  could 
have  any  other  thoughts  save  that  I  had  slain  a  fellow- 
creature,  one  of  God's  own  creation?  Think  you  that 
by  night  I  ever  might  have  repose  with  this  one's  last 
cry  of  agony  ringing  in  my  ears  and  the  very  feel  of 
his  blood  upon  my  hands  as  I  started  from  my  sleep  ?  " 

"  O  God,  speak  not  so,  Agathe ! "  shuddered  Mar- 
celle. 

"  Call  not  upon  the  God  you  so  would  set  at  defi- 
ance," said  the  Lady  Agathe,  "  for  it  is  but  a  mockery. 
You  ask  why  I  would  know  the  place  selected  for  this 
deed.  I  tell  you  it  is  because  rather  than  meet  my  Maker 
with  this  on  my  soul,  I,  knowing  little  of  this  forest  as 
I  do,  would  strive  to  make  my  way  thither  to  give  warn- 
ing in  time." 

"  It  might  mean  your  death,"  said  Marcelle  in  trem- 
bling voice. 

"  And  if  it  did — if  the  very  blow  meant  for  the  other 
should  stretch  me  low,  yet  would  I  be  repaid,  for  to  be 
resigned  to  death  is  all  that  may  render  it  painless.  Mar- 
celle, if  this  murder  occurs,  you  will  have  gratified  a 
great  earthly  revenge,  but  your  remaining  life  will  be  a 
hell,  and  at  last,  you  will  come  before  God  with  a  terri- 
ble reckoning  to  pay.  O  Marcelle,  I  beseech  you,  think, 
think!  Are  the  tortures  of  the  damned  naught  to 
you?" 

With  a  passionate  outburst  of  tears,  Marcelle  flung 
147 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


herself  into  the  Lady  Agathe's  arms  and  they  closed 
about  her  soothingly. 

"  I — I  will  prevent  this ;  I  swear  it,  Agathe !  O  God, 
give  me  strength  for  it !  "  Marcelle  cried  brokenly. 

"Even  if  it  does  mean  your  life,  Marcelle?"  said 
the  Lady  Agathe  gently. 

"  It  will  mean  my  life,"  sobbed  Marcelle,  "  but  I — 
I  have  seen  a  great  light,  a  light  that  seems  afar  off,  yet 
I  feel  it  to  be  very  near,  and  I,  too,  shall  find  death 
painless,  Agathe.  The  Count  de  Charolais  shall  live.  A 
voice  within  me  bids  that  it  shall  be  so." 

The  Lady  Agathe  drew  the  trembling  form  close  to 
her  and  bending  her  head  till  the  gold  of  her  hair  fell 
in  a  shining  aureola  about  the  dark  locks  of  Marcelle, 
kissed  her  softly.  She  smiled,  too,  for  she  had  won. 

And  so,  after  a  time,  sleep  found  them. 


148 


CHAPTER   X 
ON  TO  THE  VINE-GROWER'S 

WHEN  the  man  Poncet  Meux  had  returned 
bearing  the  curt  refusal  of  the  Lady 
Agathe  to  see  him,  the  Sieur  Giraud  had 
been  staggered.  It  had  not  taken  him  many 
moments  to  learn  of  her  presence  and  that  of  Monsieur 
Vignolles  in  the  camp,  and  his  first  feeling  had  been  one 
of  intense  wrath  that  Marcelle  should  have  taken  such 
advantage  of  what  he  had  told  her.  This  had,  however, 
quickly  yielded  to  one  of  relief  that  the  Lady  Agathe 
had  escaped  the  fate  that  awaited  her  at  Bruges.  He 
had  scarcely  paused  to  consider  what  reason  had  im- 
pelled Marcelle  so  to  waylay  her.  That  the  Lady  Agathe 
was  there  in  their  very  midst  had  outweighed  all  else  in 
his  mind  and  he  had  hastened  with  all  speed  to  put  him- 
self in  communication  with  her,  anxious  to  do  her  such 
service  as  she  might  require.  That  he  should  have 
burned  with  impatience  to  be  near  the  Lady  Agathe,  to 
feel  again  the  touch  of  her  hand  in  his  own  and  to  look 
into  her  eyes,  was  no  more  nor  less  than  might  have  been 
expected. 

And  now  as  he  waited,  Poncet  brought  him  this 
abrupt  message. 

"  She — she  will  not  see  me?  "  he  stammered.  "  There 
is  some  mistake." 

"  'Tis  not  on  my  side,  then,"  answered  Poncet,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders.  "  By  St.  Hubert,  there  was  small 
doubt  in  her  mind  by  the  way  the  words  came  from  her ! 

149 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


But  pshaw,  man,  despair  not!  Ne'er  was  there  woman 
who  practised  not  the  shuffle  of  blowing  hot  and  cold  by 
turns — I,  who  know  them,  tell  you  this — and  'tis  like 
enough  that  in  the  morning  you'll  be  taking  to  cover  to 
keep  her  from  laying  hands  on  you.  Faith,  'twas  but  two 
nights  ago  that  Bonne  Fleuron " 

But  the  Sieur  Giraud  tarried  not  to  hear,  and  turning 
on  his  heel,  strode  rapidly  away.  Poncet  remained  a 
moment  looking  after  him;  then  shook  his  head. 

"  There's  no  understanding  this  Sieur  Giraud,"  he 
muttered.  "  Any  man  should  be  content  with  what  he's 
done  this  day,  yet  the  whim  of  a  woman  serves  to  throw 
him  into  a  fit." 

He  turned  and  moved  off  toward  the  camp,  his  steps 
keeping  time  to  the  rollicking  song  that  he  hummed: 

The  Devil  he  ruled  with  never  a  care; 

And  happy  was  he  and  well; 

Till  the  day  in  his  life, 

When  he  took  him  a  wife; 

Then  the  Devil  moved  out  of  Hell. 

Meanwhile,  the  Sieur  Giraud  made  his  way  rapidly 
to  Tite's  particular  retreat  in  the  near-by  hillside.  Since 
he  was  denied  seeing  the  Lady  Agathe,  he  would  learn 
what  he  might  from  Monsieur  Vignolles. 

The  latter  was  seated  before  the  entrance  to  the  cave, 
devouring  with  much  gusto  the  food  which  had  just  been 
handed  him.  On  his  right,  at  some  little  distance,  sat 
Tite  and  another  of  the  Companions,  and  while  they  were 
similarly  engaged  they  ever  kept  a  wary  eye  upon  their 
charge,  and  their  bows  lay  ready  to  hand.  In  truth,  Tite 
had  little  fear  that  the  man  would  make  any  attempt  at 
escape,  since  he  had  come  there  of  his  own  will,  yet  he 
took  no  chances. 

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ON   TO  THE   VINE-GROWER'S 

So  intent  was  Monsieur  Vignolles  upon  the  savoury 
work  before  him  that  the  Sieur  Giraud  came  to  a  halt 
almost  at  his  side  without  his  noting  his  presence. 

"  Monsieur  Vignolles !  " 

The  metal  basin  clattered  sharply  on  the  stones  and 
went  rolling  noisily  down  the  hill,  while  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  The  devil !  The  very  voice  of  the  Sieur  Giraud 
d'Orson !  "  he  cried  sharply,  and  then  peering  closely  into 
the  other's  face,  added : 

"  Ay,  by  my  faith,  'tis  you  indeed,  Sieur  Giraud,  yet 
in  the  darkness  I'd  have  passed  you  by — but  not  without 
an  eye  behind  lest  I  receive  a  foot  of  shaft  in  the  back. 
My  compliments  to  you.  Your  new  dress  lends  a  fierce- 
ness to  your  aspect  that  would  secure  you  all  of  any  road 
that  honest  men  travel.  And  in  your  cap — yes;  I'll  be 
sworn,  the  badge  of  a  Companion !  So  this  is  what  you 
have  come  to  ?  " 

"  This  is  what  I  have  come  to,"  answered  the  Sieur 
Giraud  quietly ;  "  but  I  come  not  here  to  speak  of  my- 
self, monsieur;  I  would  know  how  it  chances  that  the 
Lady  Agathe  and  you  should  find  yourselves  in  these 
hills." 

"  Then  you  know  not  ?  By  the  garb  you  wear  you 
should  have  little  to  learn  of  me,  since  'twas  the  doing  of 
this  very  band." 

"  Yet  had  I  no  hand  in  it,  if  you  would  mean  that, 
monsieur,"  replied  the  Sieur  Giraud.  "  Nor  will  it  be 
best  for  you  to  put  such  thought  into  words  again.  I 
ask  you  once  more  how  this  has  happened." 

The  other  seemed  to  shake  off  his  doubt. 

"  What  you  say  rings  true  enough,"  he  said,  "  nor 
is  there  aught  to  conceal,  yet  you  might  have  the  tale 
Straighter  from  that  old  fox  yonder,  who  calls  himself 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


Tite.  Two  leagues  along  the  Bruges  road — storm  halts 
us — horses  stampeded  by  shot  from  roadside  and  with 
them  the  witlings  who  had  them  in  charge — short  fight, 
all  one-sided — the  devil's  own  jaunt  through  the  forest — 
and  here  we  are.  Simple  enough,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yet  how — why  chanced  it  that  you  were  with  the 
Lady  Agathe  ? "  asked  the  Sieur  Giraud  as  Tite  ap- 
proached them. 

"  I  beg  you  believe  'twas  not  by  my  own  choice. 
'Twas  my  Lord  the  Constable's  suggestion,  and  Mon- 
seigneur  and  Count  Charles  fell  in  with  it  quick  enough. 
By  my  faith!  I  would  it  had  been  some  other,  who 
might  have  made  better  play  against  these  rogues,  and 
yet " 

"And  yet?" 

"And  yet,  perchance,  'tis  as  well,  since  now  I  need 
have  no  woman  thrust  upon  me.'* 

Tite  grunted. 

"  Ha !  I  know  not  what  you  may  mean ;  but  me- 
thinks  'twas  you  foisted  yourself  upon  the  lady,  when 
you  had  clear  field  to  make  off,"  he  said,  and  entered  the 
cave,  to  return  a  moment  later  with  an  armful  of  wood 
wherewith  he  proceeded  to  build  a  blaze,  over  which  he 
heated  some  drink  in  a  basin. 

"Is  this  true,  monsieur?  You  came  of  your  own 
will  ?  "  asked  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  Faith,  what  will  has  a  man  who  has  been  man- 
handled by  such  knaves  as  these  and  lain  under  the 
weight  of  six  of  them,  while  the  sword  was  wrung  from 
his  grasp?"  replied  Monsieur  Vignolles.  "Moreover, 
what  would  you  have  had;  that  I  should  have  scrubbed 
myself  clean,  and  gone  back  to  Namur  with  empty 
sheath  and  four  lusty  rogues  at  my  back,  and  ne'er  a 
scratch  upon  any  of  us  ?  In  truth,  I  love  the  telling  of  a 

152 


ON   TO  THE  VINE-GROWER'S 

tale  as  well  as  the  next  man;  but  I  like  one  with  more 
point  to  it." 

"  Yet,  you  may  not  have  bettered  yourself  in  coming," 
growled  Tite,  as  he  started  away. 

"  Which  observation  shows  great  thought  and  little 
discernment,  old  Whitehead,"  answered  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles,  "  for  up  to  the  present  I  live ;  and  were  I  at 
Namur,  methinks  they  would  even  now  be  saying  a  mass 
for  my  soul.  But  come,  Sieur  Giraud,  now  that  you  have 
milked  me  dry,  a  word  of  yourself,  and  how  it  is  that  you 
wear  the  dress  of  these  thieves." 

And  with  that,  the  Sieur  Giraud  briefly  ran  over  the 
events  which  had  transpired  since  last  they  had  parted 
at  the  town  gates.  As  he  ended,  Monsieur  Vignolles 
slapped  his  thigh  and  spoke  quickly. 

"  And  you  have  taken  an  oath  to  abide  by  the  wishes 
of  this  rabble  of  outlaws — the  will  of  Marcelle  the 
Mad?" 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  added : 

"  May  the  devil  seize  me  if  I  blame  you  though,  since 
'twas  so  close  a  thing  with  you!  But  what  has  acted 
upon  the  Lady  Agathe  that  she  should  turn  against  you  ? 
Think  you  'tis  only  that  she  has  learned  what  you  have 
become  ?  " 

"  I  know  not ;  perchance  'tis  so,  for  she  has  a  sense 
of  honour  above  most  women.  But  listen,  Monsieur 
Vignolles,  whate'er  the  oath  I  have  taken;  whate'er  the 
issue  to  me;  the  Lady  Agathe  shall  not  be  left  to  the 
mercies  of  these  Companions,  or  the  whims  of  Mar- 
celle. You,  I  take  it,  came  here  with  the  idea  of  being 
of  some  aid  to  her  if  possible.  So  be  it;  we  will  work 
together  for  her  release." 

"  Little  enough  will  be  my  part  with  two  of  your  com- 
rades ever  waiting  to  draw  bow  upon  me,"  said  Mon- 

153 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


sieur  Vignolles,  with  a  glance  at  Tite  and  the  other. 
"  Besides,  even  assuming  that  we  should  get  away  with 
my  lady,  where  are  we  to  go?  You  would  answer  to 
Dauphine;  but,  in  truth,  men,  you  can  scarce  hope  to 
begin  such  journey  without  money,  without  horses,  and 
without  any  means  of  obtaining  the  smallest  comforts 
my  lady  would  require." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  kicked  at  the  gravel  beneath  his 
feet.  There  was  truth  in  what  the  other  had  said;  so 
much  truth  that  his  resentment  was  almost  personal. 

"  We  shall  find  a  way,  monsieur,"  he  said  stubbornly. 
"  I  tell  you  the  Lady  Agathe  must  not  remain  here  a  day 
longer  than  need  be,  for  I  place  no  trust  now  in  Mar- 
celle.  Why  has  she  seized  my  lady  ?  " 

"  What  for,  save  for  ransom  ?  That  is  clear  enough," 
answered  Monsieur  Vignolles  shortly. 

"  It  may  be  so ;  yet,  in  truth,  I  doubt  it.  Ne'er  have 
I  yet  seen  her  take  any  share  of  the  gold  these  thieves 
lay  hands  on,  and  her  own  desires  lie  not  that  way. 
Monsieur  Vignolles,  the  more  I  see  of  Marcelle  the  less 
do  I  know  her.  At  times  she  is  as  gentle  as  my  lady 
herself;  at  others  she  flies  into  such  passion  that  I 
know  her  not  for  the  same.  Is  she  capable  of  doing  my 
lady  a  harm  ?  In  truth,  I  know  not.  One  moment  I  be- 
lieve it;  the  next,  scoff  at  the  idea.  But  I  fear,  mon- 
sieur, I  fear,  and  would  have  my  lady  beyond  her  reach. 
Give  me  till  morning ;  I  shall  find  some  plan." 

"  So  be  it,"  replied  the  other.  "  As  for  myself,  I  am 
more  in  the  dark  than  you  are.  Only  this  day  my  lady 
spoke  of  you  with  much  kindness  and  sorrow,  methought. 
Now  she  refuses  you  a  word,  refuses  even  to  see  you. 
Is  it  magic  or  what  devilish  power  does  this  Marcelle 
possess  that  affects  all  in  these  hills  who  fall  into  her 
clutches  ?  But  no ;  one  so  beautiful  as  this  girl  can  have 

154 


ON   TO   THE   VINE-GROWER'S 

naught  to  do  with  sorcery,  for  save  for  my  lady  herself, 
ne'er  have  I  seen  woman  who  could  compare  with  her." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  paused  a  moment  before  replying, 
and  the  other  felt  that  his  eyes  were  searching  him  in- 
tently. Then  he  said : 

"  At  all  events,  there  is  naught  to  be  done  to-night, 
monsieur.  Await  my  return  in  the  morning,  and  mean- 
while give  Tite  no  cause  to  suspect  what  is  in  your 
mind." 

With  that  he  bowed  and  left  Monsieur  Vignolles  as 
abruptly  as  he  had  come. 

To  seek  his  own  burrow  in  the  hillside  and  to  throw 
himself  down  upon  his  blanket  was  the  work  of  but  few 
moments.  To  conjure  up  some  feasible  plan  for  my 
lady's  escape  was  a  matter  of  hours,  but  at  last  he 
seemed  satisfied  and  slept,  yet  the  first  gray  light  in  the 
east  found  him  astir. 

He  had  come  to  depend  on  himself  alone,  had  the 
Sieur  Giraud,  erstwhile  captain  of  lance  with  camp-fol- 
lowers and  lackeys  at  his  beck  and  call.  There  was 
therefore  naught  surprising  in  the  way  he  took  his  cut 
from  the  loin  of  a  hanging  deer  carcass,  nor  in  the 
readiness  with  which  he  cooked  it  over  the  fire.  He  had 
ended  his  repast  when  the  sun  shot  its  first  rays  slant- 
ingly through  the  trees  and  the  others  were  just  strag- 
gling with  sleepy  yawns  into  the  light  of  the  new  day. 
Their  salutations  he  scarce  noted  as  he  set  forth  toward 
the  quarters  of  Monsieur  Vignolles. 

As  he  picked  his  way  among  the  trees,  he  came,  of  a 
sudden,  face  to  face  with  Marcelle.  She,  too,  it  seemed, 
was  abroad  early  this  day.  An  instant  they  stood  con- 
fronting each  other,  then,  as  though  to  prevent  her 
escaping^  him,  he  sprang  forward  with  a  hoarse  cry  and 
seized  her  by  the  arm. 

H  155 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  So,  Marcelle,  you  would  lead  me  on  to  tell  you  of 
the  Lady  Agathe  but  that  you  might  turn  it  to  some 
wretched  scheme  of  your  own !  "  he  said. 

"  You  are  hurting  me,"  she  answered,  her  gaze  fall- 
ing before  his.  "  Oh,  you  need  have  no  fear ;  I  shall  not 
run  from  you,  Sieur  Giraud." 

Indeed,  in  his  anger  he  had  seized  her  roughly 
enough,  and  at  her  tone  he  released  her  quickly. 

"  I  meant  not  to  hurt  you,  Marcelle,"  he  said, 
"  though  I  know  not  why  I  should  have  such  feeling  for 
you.  The  Lady  Agathe — she  is  well  ?  " 

"  She  sleeps  still.    Ay,  she  is  well." 

"  And  for  what  purpose  have  you  brought  her  here  ?  " 

A  far-away  look  was  in  her  eyes,  and  for  a  moment 
she  smiled,  and  this  still  further  angered  him,  for  he 
understood  not  what  was  in  her  mind. 

"  I  ask  you  again,  for  what  purpose  you  have  played 
this  base  trick  ?  "  he  cried  hotly. 

Marcelle  roused  herself.  She  must  play  her  part  be- 
fore him,  yet  she  was  in  no  mood  for  the  playing  of 
parts  that  morning. 

"  For  what  purpose,  think  you,  one  of  Lady  Agathe's 
station  should  be  held  by  such  paupers  as  we  are?  "  she 
answered  slowly,  for  it  was  hard  to  lie  thus  to  the  man 
she  loved. 

"  My  God !  I  had  not  believed  it  of  you,  Marcelle," 
he  cried.  "  No ;  in  truth,  I  had  thought  to  see  some  good 
back  of  all  the  wild  savagery  within  you ;  even  to  read  in 
your  eyes  at  times " 

She  stretched  her  hands  toward  him  suddenly. 

"What?  What  did  you  think  to  read  there?"  she 
cried,  and  he  marvelled  at  the  light  in  her  eyes,  the  same 
light  that  he  had  seen  there  the  day  she  had  left  him  so 
suddenly,  swearing  she  hated  him.  Had  he  been  less  pos- 

156 


ON  TO  THE  VINE-GROWER'S 

sessed  with  the  thought  of  the  Lady  Agathe,  in  truth,  he 
now  might  have  read  with  understanding.  As  it  was,  he 
merely  said: 

"  Why  speak  of  what  I  now  know  to  have  been  but 
fantasy?  You  have  abused  the  very  confidence  I  gave 
you  to  bring  suffering  upon  the  Lady  Agathe." 

Marcelle's  head  again  fell  upon  her  breast,  and  again 
she  took  up  her  role. 

"  You  speak  strangely,  Sieur  Giraud,  since  by  her 
very  seizure  she  was  saved  from  a  marriage  she  de- 
tested. That  at  least  was  something." 

"  That  was  much,  Marcelle,"  he  answered,  "  but  the 
manner  of  its  doing  was  cruel,  and  now  you  hold  her 
for  a  payment  that  shall  reward  the  service.  Speak  not 
of  it  then  as  a  favour  conferred  upon  her,  for  'tis  naught 
but  a  forced  bargain.  Name  your  price  and  give  her 
freedom,  such  as  she  will  pay  for  gladly." 

"  Ay ;  in  truth,  it  has  been  a  forced  bargain  between 
us,"  he  heard  her  murmur,  and  again  that  strange  smile 
was  upon  her  face. 

"  Moreover,  I  would  know  what  has  influenced  the 
Lady  Agathe  against  me,"  he  went  on.  "  Till  she  came 
here — till  she  had  seen  and  spoken  with  you — she  held 
no  such  prejudice.  What  lie  have  you  whispered  in  her 
ear  that  so  should  turn  her  ?  " 

His  every  word  stabbed  her  with  sharp  pain,  yet  she 
must  go  on.  O  God,  could  this  man  only  know!  But 
she  might  not  answer  him  truly,  even  had  she  deemed  it 
best,  for  ahead  of  her  this  day  waited  a  task  that  must 
not  fail,  a  task  that  she  alone  might  do. 

"  You  speak  harsh  words,  Sieur  Giraud ;  harsher 
than  you  know,"  she  said  slowly.  "  No  lie  of  mine  has 
poisoned  the  mind  of  the  Lady  Agathe  against  you,  that 
I  swear.  As  for  the  price  of  her  deliverance,  it  is  what- 

157 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


ever  she  herself  may  choose  to  pay.  I  have  naught  to  say 
thereon,  and  she  may  go  from  here  with  no  hindrance 
from  me,  and  at  any  time  she  so  wills." 

His  face  lighted  suddenly. 

"  Is  it  possible  I  can  have  been  so  mistaken — that  you 
have  done  this  for — for  me,  Marcelle  ?  "  he  cried,  and 
leaned  forward  to  look  into  her  eyes.  "  If  so,  then  on  my 
knees  will  I  humbly  beg  forgiveness  for  the  hard  words 
I  have  uttered.  What  my  lady  holds  against  me  I 
know  not,  yet  if  you  have  done  this  thing  for  my  sake, 
naught  have  you  had  to  do  with  it." 

It  flashed  upon  Marcelle  with  dazing  suddenness,  and 
it  seemed  to  her  that  he  must  be  trying  to  tear  the  very 
heart  from  within  her.  How  could  he  believe  that  she, 
loving  him  as  she  did,  could  bring  this  other  to  his  side 
to  mock  her  own  agony  ?  Ah,  but  then  he  knew  not  how 
she  loved  him.  Out  of  the  kindness  of  her  heart  he 
thought  she  had  done  it.  She  laughed — a  tense,  dis- 
cordant laugh  it  was — and  it  jarred  upon  his  ears. 

"  For  your  sake ;  for  your  sake  ?  "  she  cried,  and  then 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  leaned  against  the  tree 
at  her  side.  "  Oh,  my  God ;  no — no — no !  Give  me 
credit  only  for  what  I  have  done — what  I  shall  do." 

A  long  time  he  stood  and  watched  her,  uncertain  how 
to  proceed,  for,  in  truth,  he  understood  naught  of  what 
she  said,  and  believed  that  a  mad  fit  was  indeed  upon  her. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Marcelle,"  he  said  finally. 
"  But  the  time  has  come  when  our  ways  must  separate. 
The  Lady  Agathe's  coming  has  but  hastened  the  hour 
which  I  had  set  in  my  mind.  You  have  said  that  she 
should  go  from  here  without  hindrance  whenever  she 
wills.  So  be  it ;  she  shall  go  this  very  day." 

"Where?" 

"  Back  to  Dauphine  with  Monsieur  Vignolles,  if  such 
158 


ON   TO  THE   VINE-GROWER'S 

be  possible,  and  methinks,  if  my  plans  bear  fruit,  I  may 
aid  them.  My  lady  will  have  naught  to  do  with  me  now, 
it  seems.  Perchance,  when  I  am  restored  to  favour,  she 
may  again  be  pleased  to  accept  my  aid,  and  money  she 
will  need  if  she  hopes  to  reach  Dauphine." 

He  spoke  bitterly. 

A  moment  she  was  silent  and  stood  looking  at  him 
with  a  great  wonder  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  have  spoken  before  of  this  renewal  of  your 
favour,  Sieur  Giraud.  You  mean  that  if  Count  Charles 
should  reinstate  you,  you  again  would  risk  your  life  to 
serve  the  Lady  Agathe — to  assist  in  her  escape  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  There  would  be  no  question  this  time  of  risking 
life,  Marcelle ;  'twould  be  the  mere  trouble  of  getting  the 
gold  into  Monsieur  Vignolles's  hands." 

Again  she  was  silent,  and  this  time  for  a  long  while. 
When  she  spoke  it  was  in  a  low  tone  and  with  much 
earnestness. 

"  Sieur  Giraud,  it  shall  be  as  you  say,  so  far  as  con- 
cerns me.  You  are  released  from  your  oath;  Monsieur 
Vignolles  shall  be  set  free,  and  the  Lady  Agathe  may  go 
when  she  wills.  It  is  strange  that  this  day  should  see  the 
parting  of  so  many  of  us,  for  I,  too,  am  going  on  a 
journey,  Sieur  Giraud,  a  longer  one  than  any  of  you, 
methinks." 

"You,  Marcelle!" 

"  Ay ;  to-day  will  see  the  last  of  Marcelle  the  Mad  in 
these  Ardennes  woods.  And,  Sieur  Giraud,  whether  you 
gain  the  restoration  you  hope  for  or  whether  you  again 
return  to  wear  the  green  badge  of  a  Companion — of 
Marcelle — you'll  think  sometimes  of  me.  I  beg  of  you 
forget  that  worst  side  I  have  shown,  and  hold  in  memory 
only  my  better  self,  the  part  that  always  has  been  crying 

159 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


within  me  for  outlet,  yet   so   seldom  has  obtained   it. 
Adieu,  Sieur  Giraud !  " 

"  But,  Marcelle,  where  go  you  ?  Surely  you  will  not 
desert  the  Companions !  " 

He  had  forgotten  the  Lady  Agathe  and  felt  only  a 
great  desire  to  know  what  the  trembling  little  figure  be- 
fore him  meditated.  Her  answer  came  slowly,  almost 
dreamily. 

"  Where  do  I  go  ?  Far,  far  away,  and  soon  the  name 
of  Marcelle  the  Mad  will  become  but  a  threat  to  hold 
over  children — your  children,  mayhap,  Sieur  Giraud." 

"  No,  no ;  say  you  not  so,  Marcelle !  "•  he  cried 
hoarsely,  for  there  was  a  sadness  in  her  voice  that  sank 
deep  into  his  heart. 

"  Say  you  not  so,  Marcelle,"  he  repeated.  "  I  know 
not  what  you  meditate,  but  surely  you  cannot  believe — 
oh,  Marcelle,  I  hate  the  very  words  you  spoke." 

She  raised  her  eyes,  and  as  he  stood  before  her  he 
seemed  to  swim — the  very  forest  seemed  to  swim — in 
space.  With  a  cry,  startled,  despairing,  and  rending  her 
very  soul,  she  seized  his  hand  and  bore  it  to  her  lips. 
The  next  moment  she  was  gone  and  he  knew  not  if 
the  "  Adieu,  Sieur  Giraud,"  really  had  been  uttered  or 
was  but  the  soft  breath  of  the  wind  through  the  trees 
above. 

Then  he  drew  himself  up,  and  bethinking  himself  of 
his  errand,  strode  slowly  away.  And  as  he  walked,  his 
hand  went  often  to  his  lips. 

He  came  upon  Monsieur  Vignolles  at  the  base  of  the 
hillside  which  had  harboured  him  over  night,  busily  en- 
gaged in  sousing  his  head  in  the  cool  water  that  purled 
along  the  centre  of  the  stream  bed.  Higher  up  on  the 
bank  Tite  tugged  and  swore  at  the  tangled  lacings  of 
his  buckskin  shoes. 

160 


ON  TO  THE  VINE-GROWER'S 

At  the  sound  of  the  approaching  footstep  Monsieur 
Vignolles  raised  his  head  quickly,  and  blew  the  water 
from  his  face. 

"  So  you  are  astir  as  well,  Sieur  Giraud  ?  "  he  sput- 
tered. "  By  my  faith,  small  need  have  you  here  for  any 
reveille  with  such  as  old  Whitehead  yonder  to  forestall 
the  very  sun  and  see  that  you  bestir  yourselves!  For 
the  past  hour  I  have  known  no  rest  with  his  proddings 
in  the  back,  nor  he  any  contentment  till  he  had  routed  me 
out.  But  speak,  man.  Your  face  shows  that  you  bear 
some  news.  Has  the  idea  you  sought  come  to  you  with 
the  morning  ?  " 

"  Ay,  and  some  others  as  well,"  replied  the  Sieur 
Giraud.  "  But  what  think  you  is  the  latest  move  of 
Marcelle?" 

Monsieur  Vignolles  laughed. 

"  Ask  me  why  the  wind  should  veer  from  north  to 
south;  ask  me  why  this  water  will  not  run  uphill,  yet 
will  travel  to  the  farthermost  leaves  of  the  trees  over- 
head, and  I'll  find  some  answer.  But  call  on  no  man  to 
forecast  the  freaks  of  a  woman's  mind,  the  more  so  if 
such  woman  be  Marcelle  the  Mad.  Go  on;  I  listen." 

"  Then  know  that  she  has  relieved  us  of  the  half  of 
our  task,"  said  the  Sieur  Giraud.  "  You  are  free — or 
will  be  soon — and  so  is  the  Lady  Agathe — free  to  go 
wherever  you  will." 

"  The  devil !  And  what  has  brought  about  this 
change  of  heart  ?  " 

"  I  know  not ;  but  it  suffices  that  it  should  be  so," 
replied  the  Sieur  Giraud,  shaking  his  head  thoughtfully. 
"  I  come  here  direct  from  seeing  Marcelle,  having  en- 
countered her  on  the  way.  She  seemed  not  herself,  and 
spoke  strangely  of  going  away  upon  some  journey,  all 

of  which  I  understood  not,  yet " 

161 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


He  paused,  and  seemed  lost  to  the  other's  presence 
for  a  moment. 

"  Yet  what  ? "  asked  Monsieur  Vignolles,  and  the 
Sieur  Giraud  roused  with  an  effort. 

"  It  is  no  matter,  monsieur,"  he  said  quietly.  "  What 
concerns  us  is  that  my  lady  need  remain  here  no  longer. 
You  were  wrong  in  believing  her  held  for  gold;  but 
whatever  the  reason  of  her  seizure,  it  is  no  longer  potent. 
You  must  go  at  once,  you  and  the  Lady  Agathe." 

Monsieur  Vignolles  came  closer  and  looked  earnestly 
into  the  Sieur  Giraud's  face. 

"  I — I  must  go ;  I  and  the  Lady  Agathe  ?  And  what 
of  you  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

"  My  work  lies  another  way,  monsieur.  Soon — per- 
chance even  to-day — I  may  be  restored  to  the  favour  I 
have  lost.  I  may  not  tell  you  more,  since  I  am  sworn  to 
secrecy;  but  I  believe  the  hope  to  be  no  vain  one.  The 
Lady  Agathe  will  have  naught  to  do  with  me  for  some 
reason,  and " 

"  But  surely  you  will  learn  this  reason — you  will  see 
her ! "  broke  in  Monsieur  Vignolles. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  shook  his  head. 

"  No ;  that  I  will  not,"  he  answered  coldly.  "  Some 
service  have  I  tried  to  be  to  my  lady,  and  because  of  what 
came  of  it — what  I  have  become — she  would  lend  willing 
ear  against  me.  Am  I,  then,  to  force  myself  upon  her; 
am  I  to  plead  for  myself  with  one  so  easily  swayed  from 
regard  to  mistrust  ?  No,  monsieur ;  though  I  have  little 
left  of  pride,  that  little  I  will  retain  so  long  as  may  be. 
Some  day  the  matter  will  be  cleared  perchance.  But 
enough  of  that.  Whatever  my  lady  may  believe,  it  must 
not  affect  her  going  from  this  place.  You,  Monsieur 
Vignolles,  shall  gratify  the  wish  you  had  in  coming  here ; 
you  shall  escort  her  to  safety." 

162 


ON   TO   THE   VINE-GROWER'S 

"  Before  have  I  told  you  that  such  is  impossible  with- 
out money,  and " 

"  And  that  you  shall  have,  if  my  plans  fail  me  not," 
cut  in  the  Sieur  Giraud.  "  Last  night  did  I  conjure  out 
how  the  affair  might  be  managed,  and  this  morning  the 
strange  manner  of  Marcelle  has  thrown  me  into  a  fever 
to  see  my  lady  safe  away  from  here.  Yet  she  may  not 
wander  aimlessly  about  in  these  Ardennes  till  such  time 
as  I  may  aid  her  with  the  means  to  travel  as  becomes  her 
station.  There  is,  however,  one  refuge  where  methinks 
she  may  safely  await  its  coming;  I  mean  the  house  of 
the  old  vine-grower,  Poncet's  father.  Moreover,  she  will 
have  the  company  of  the  old  man's  wife,  no  small  thing 
in  her  eyes,  I'll  be  sworn.  What  say  you?  The  house, 
you  know  well  enough,  is  but  a  few  leagues  from  here, 
a  distance  you  may  easily  make  on  foot." 

"  Faith,  'tis  well  enough  conceived,"  answered  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles ;  "  but  I  much  doubt  if  these  worthy 
people  may  be  trusted." 

"  What,  then,  is  there  to  intrust  to  them,  monsieur  ? 
What  they  might  not  do  for  the  gold  we  shall  promise 
them,  they  will  do  through  fear.  Remember,  'tis  not 
the  first  time  we  have  called  upon  them." 

For  some  moments  Monsieur  Vignolles  was  silent; 
then  he  said  musingly : 

"  In  truth,  Sieur  Giraud,  you  would  do  much  for  my 
lady,  more  than  most  men  who  had  been  so  treated." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  answered  almost  with  anger. 

"  Let  my  first  failure  suffice  to  explain  that.  If  you 
are  agreed,  I  am  off  to  the  vine-grower's  to  make  the 
arrangement  for  your  coming.  By  noon  I  should  be 
there,  and  I'll  answer  for  their  complaisance.  Will  you 
follow  with  the  Lady  Agathe?  At  least,  she  will  trust 
you." 

163 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


"  You  are  sure  that  I  shall  be  free  to  do  so?  "  asked 
Monsieur  Vignolles,  with  a  jerk  of  his  head  toward  Tite, 
and  the  Sieur  Giraud  answered  quickly  enough,  for  he 
believed  in  Marcelle's  sincerity,  and  her  tone  was  still 
in  his  ears. 

"  Yes ;  you  will  be  relieved  of  your  guard,  have  no 
fear." 

"  Then  will  I  bring  my  lady  to  the  vine-grower's," 
replied  Monsieur  Vignolles,  "  and,  after,  we  may  make 
further  arrangements.  But  the  saints  forbid  that  you 
should  fail  in  this  reinstatement  you  look  for !  " 

"  Even  so,  my  lady  would  be  in  no  worse  plight  than 
now,"  was  the  answer.  "  Therefore,  do  you  lose  no  time 
in  seeing  her.  I  will  await  you  at  the  man  Meux's. 
Ha!  If  I  mistake  me  not,  here  is  the  order  for  your 
release  now." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  pointed  to  one  of  the  Companions 
who  at  the  moment  scrambled  down  the  bank  and  spoke 
with  Tite.  In  a  moment  the  latter  left  him  and  came  to 
Monsieur  Vignolles. 

"  Now  that  you're  here  and  forced  to  remain,  I  make 
no  doubt  that  you  itch  to  be  away,"  he  said  grimly. 
"  Therefore,  do  you  go  when  it  pleases  you,  since  Mar- 
celle  bids  me  have  no  more  to  do  with  you,  and  a  good 
riddance  it  is,  indeed." 

"  So  she  opens  the  way  for  me,  does  she  ?  "  said 
Monsieur  Vignolles.  "  Thanks — a  thousand  thanks  be 
hers  for  the  favour,  for,  in  truth,  old  Whitehead,  your 
company  had  begun  to  pall  upon  me.  Methinks,  since 
rousing  me  this  morning,  you  have  spoken  once,  and  then 
to  bid  me  shut  my  -mouth.  Have  no  fear ;  I  go  even  upon 
the  instant,  loath  though  I  am  to  leave  such  affection 
behind." 

Tite's  answer  was  indistinct.  The  truth  was,  he  had 
164 


ON   TO  THE   VINE-GROWER'S 

scarcely  known  how  to  take  Monsieur  Vignolles,  and  was 
glad,  as  he  said,  to  be  rid  of  his  charge.  As  he  stalked 
away,  the  Sieur  Giraud  said  shortly: 

"  Then  'tis  understood,  monsieur.  I  will  be  off  to 
render  your  reception  easy.  As  for  yourself,  do  you  lose 
no  time  in  following  with  my  lady.  But  have  a  care  not 
to  rouse  the  suspicions  of  the  band  that  you  are  aiding 
her  escape.  Marcelle  will  offer  no  hindrance,  but  the 
others  may  not  all  be  of  her  mind." 

With  that,  he  turned  and  passed  from  view  along  the 
ravine,  and  Monsieur  Vignolles,  a  moment  later,  made 
his  way  up  the  hill  toward  Marcelle's  cabin. 

Had  he  not  been  so  preoccupied,  he  must  have  seen 
the  crouching,  half-running  figure  that  passed  him  scarce 
a  score  paces  on  his  left  and  the  flitting  green  shadow 
that  followed  warily  behind.  He  then  would  have  mar- 
velled— however,  he  did  not  see;  nor  was  he  delivered 
from  his  abstraction  till  he  had  come  to  the  open  space 
before  the  cabin,  and  saw  the  Lady  Agathe  as  she  walked 
there. 

She  looked  up  quickly  on  his  approach,  and  acknowl- 
edged his  bow  with  some  favour.  It  was  in  her  mind 
that  here,  at  least,  was  a  man  whose  honour  was  untar- 
nished. 

"  My  lady,  I  rejoice  to  see  that  the  trials  of  yesterday 
have  left  no  traces  upon  the  fairness  you  possess,"  he 
began.  "  Since  the  face  but  reflects  the  mind,  may  I 
commend  you  for  bearing  this  extremity  so  bravely." 

"  I  thank  you,  monsieur,"  she  answered,  "  but  the 
term  o'ershoots  the  case  somewhat,  since  my  trial  has 
been  less  than  would  appear,  and  my  state  now  is  not 
one  of  extremity." 

"  Yet  strange  and  distasteful  it  must  be,  my  lady," 
said  Monsieur  Vignolles  in  some  wonder  at  her  com- 

165 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


posed  tone.  "  It  is  to  release  you  from  such  position 
that  I  come  to  you  now.  I  know  not  whether  you  are 
aware  of  it,  but  Marcelle  has  set  us  both  free." 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  Vignolles,  I  know." 

Again  that  calm  cadence  in  her  voice  that  puzzled 
him. 

"  I  see  that  I  give  you  no  news,  my  lady ;  let  me 
proffer  you  better,"  he  said.  "  It  was  with  the  faint  hope 
that  some  such  chance  would  offer  that  I  came  hither. 
Because  of  some  whim,  I  know  not  what,  Marcelle  has 
thought  best  to  free  us.  Let  us  not  lose  the  opportunity, 
my  lady.  Come,  without  losing  a  moment,  come!  The 
others,  even  the  women,  are  now  at  the  camp  eating,  and 
we  shall  have  a  most  excellent  start  before  they  discover 
our  absence." 

"  If  the  others  are  at  the  camp,  it  is  because  Marcelle 
herself  sent  them  there,"  she  answered  quietly. 

"  Then  would  she  give  us  a  free  field.  Saints,  I  pre- 
tend not  to  understand  the  woman !  "  he  said  quickly. 
"  But  come,  my  lady ;  the  distance  I  have  to  escort  you 
is  naught  that  you  may  not  cover  on  foot,  and  I'll  an- 
swer for  your  safety  with  my  life — better  than  I  did 
yesterday,"  he  added  bitterly. 

"  And  where,  then,  would  you  conduct  me,  mon- 
sieur ? "  she  asked  with  no  trace  of  eagerness  in  her 
voice. 

"  To  a  house  scarce  three  leagues  distant,  where  a 
woman  shall  attend  upon  your  wants,  and  you  may  re- 
main till  some  disposition  be  made  for  your  journey  to 
Dauphine.  Even  now  the  Sieur  Giraud  is  on  his  way 
thither,  to  arrange  for  your  reception." 

"Ah!" 

There  was  interest  enough  in  her  tone  now. 

"And  where — whose  house  is  this  to  which  you 
166 


ON   TO  THE   VINE-GROWER'S 

would  take  me  ?  "  she  added,  with  an  apparent  struggle 
to  be  calm. 

"  A  humble  abode  it  is  for  you,  my  lady,  yet  'twill 
serve  your  needs,  and  your  stay  there  will  be  but  short, 
I  trust.  'Tis  the  house  of  a  vine-grower,  one  Meux 
by  name,  who " 

He  checked  himself  of  a  sudden  at  the  look  of 
horror  which  had  swept  into  her  face ;  but  ere  he  might 
ask  its  cause,  she  cried: 

"  You  say  that  the  Sieur  Giraud  d'Orson  has — has 
gone  to  that  house  this  day  ?  " 

"  Since  it  is  true,  why  may  I  not  say  so,  my  lady  ?  " 
he  said,  and  would  have  spoken  more  but  that  she  waved 
him  off. 

"  Then  do  you  listen  to  me,  Monsieur  Vignolles ! " 
she  cried.  "  Speak  no  longer  of  my  escape ;  it  is  of  no 
moment,  and  I  would  not  go  in  any  event.  But  what 
goes  on  at  that  vine-grower's  house  to-day  may  well  be 
worth  your  attention.  I  see  that  you,  in  truth,  are  in 
the  dark." 

"  My  lady,  I  know  not  what  you  mean.     I — I " 

"  You  have  seen  naught  behind  this  excuse  for  ab- 
sence the  Sieur  Giraud  has  made  you  ? "  she  cut  in. 
"  You  believe  that  he  has  gone  thither  on  my  behalf. 
I  tell  you,  they  plan  to  do  a  man  to  death  at  that  house 
to-day,  and  that  man  the  Count  de  Charolais." 

"  My  God,  my  Lady  Agathe,  you  rave !  You  have 
suffered  too  much  from " 

"  I  tell  you,  it  is  true ;  I  had  the  plan  from  Marcelle 
herself.  The  guiding  hand  belongs  to  some  traitor  in 
Count  Charles's  own  camp  at  Namur;  but  one  of  these 
Companions  will  be  the  actual  instrument,  unless  the 
design  is  balked." 

"  Count  Charles  to  be  murdered !  "  cried  Monsieur 
167 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


Vignolles  hoarsely.  "  And  you  would  believe  the  Sieur 
Giraud  capable  of  having  a  hand  in  that,  my  lady? 
Then  I  wonder  no  longer  that  you  should  have  turned 
so  suddenly  against  him.  But  'tis  folly;  'tis  wrong  to 
harbour  such  thoughts." 

"  I  harbour  no  thoughts  till  I  have  proof  they  are 
warranted,  monsieur ;  and,  God  knows,  I  have  had  proof 
enough !  One  other  among  these  Companions  is  in  the 
plot — one  calling  himself  Crepin  Brune — and  they  have 
inveigled  Count  Charles  into  coming  to  the  vine-grow- 
er's by  promises  of  delivering  over  one  Gaspard  Lenoir, 
whom  he  seeks  to  lay  hands  on.  Which  of  them  deals 
the  death-blow  is  small  matter.  Count  Charles  will  come 
to  his  death  in  answer  to  a  letter  of  the  Sieur  Giraud 
d'Orson ;  that  I  know,  for  with  my  own  ears  I  heard 
the  Sieur  Giraud  speak  with  Crepin  concerning  it." 

Monsieur  Vignolles  began  to  be  affected  by  her 
assurance.  The  Sieur  Giraud  had  spoken  vaguely  with 
him  of  some  possible  return  to  favour.  Could  he  have 
meant  that  such  would  be  his  reward  for  his  part  in  the 
undoing  of  Count  Charles?  That  there  were  those  who 
would  gladly  so  reward  him  Monsieur  Vignolles  made 
no  doubt.  Moreover,  he  knew  but  little  of  the  Sieur 
Giraud;  ne'er  had  laid  eyes  on  him  till  they  had  met 
at  Namur,  and  all  things  were  possible  for  a  man  so 
fallen.  Yet  it  grated  upon  him  to  think  this,  for  he 
had  greatly  esteemed  the  Sieur  Giraud,  and  his  was  a 
liking  that,  once  roused,  was  not  lightly  thrown  aside. 

"  My  lady,  methinks  you  would  be  the  last  one  to 
accuse  any  man  falsely,  much  less  the  Sieur  Giraud," 
he  said  finally.  "  You  say  you  had  this  tale  from  Mar- 
celle?" 

"  Yes,  word  by  word,  as  I  fairly  dragged  it  from 
her  last  night,  and  as  she  herself  had  overheard  Crepin 

1 68 


ON   TO   THE   VINE-GROWERS 

and  another  arrange  it,"  answered  the  Lady  Agathe. 
"  Her  own  part  in  the  consummation  of  the  plan  was 
not  active ;  but  she " 

She  broke  off  suddenly. 

"  I  will  not  tell  you  more  of  that,  monsieur,"  she  said. 

"  So  be  it ;  I've  heard  enough,  methinks,  my  lady. 
Adieu ! " 

Monsieur  Vignolles's  voice  was  scarce  raised  in  pitch, 
yet  he  spoke  with  decision  and  spun  round  upon  his  heel. 

"  You  are  going,  monsieur  ?  "  cried  the  Lady  Agathe  ; 
and  he  paused  a  moment  to  fling  back  over  his  shoulder : 

"  To  the  house  of  the  vine-grower,  ay,  my  lady ; 
there  to  know  the  truth  or  nail  the  lie  in  all  this.  God 
rest  I  be  not  too  late !  " 

With  that,  he  slipped  swiftly  away,  and  only  the  nod- 
ding undergrowth  showed  where  he  had  passed  through 
the  great  green  barrier. 


169 


CHAPTER   XI 

UNDER    THE    GREAT    BALD    KNOLL 

IF,  for  any  reason,  a  man  had  taken  boat  from  Namur 
and  had  ascended  the  Meuse  for  some  three 
leagues,  he  would  have  covered  about  half  the  dis- 
tance to  Dinant,  and  ahead  of  him  would  have 
loomed  a  jutting  point  marking  a  great  bend  in  the  river. 
If  he  had  run  the  nose  of  his  craft  upon  the  near  side  of 
this  point  and  stepped  ashore,  the  scarred  summit  of  the 
Great  Bald  Knoll  would  have  seemed  fairly  to  overhang 
his  head.  Yet  this  .proximity  was  apparent  rather  than 
real,  for  had  the  man  drawn  full  bow  and  discharged  a 
shaft  straight  at  the  frowning  crag,  the  missile  would 
have  fallen  short,  assuming  him  to  have  been  a  bowman 
of  average  skill  and  strength.  Had  he  then  sought  to 
recover  the  spent  shaft,  he  first  must  have  penetrated  the 
dense  growth  of  underbrush  lining  the  banks  of  the 
stream ;  then  some  scrubby  pines  merging  into  the  forest 
proper;  and  finally  would  have  come  upon  a  woodland 
trail  wide  enough,  perchance,  to  allow  of  two  horsemen 
riding  abreast.  Somewhere  on  the  other  side  of  this  trail, 
and  between  it  and  the  steep  side  of  the  Great  Bald  Knoll, 
he  would  have  come  upon  his  arrow,  and  in  so  doing, 
would  have  found  himself  trespassing  upon  the  holding 
of  Meux,  the  vine-grower.  He  might  have  found  it  in 
the  dense  wood  lining  the  winding  path  that  led  to  the 
very  portal  of  that  worthy's  house,  or,  perchance,  it 
might  have  o'ershot  that  mark  and  sought  rest  among  the 
straggling  vines  upon  the  base  hillside. 

170 


UNDER   THE  GREAT   BALD   KNOLL 

At  all  events,  thus  had  nature  dealt  with  the  sur- 
roundings of  the  vine-grower's  abode,  in  front  spreading 
vegetation  with  no  niggardly  hand,  and  behind  rearing  a 
rocky  hillside,  where  the  clearing  axe  of  man  had  found 
little  to  do.  The  sorry-looking  vines  testified  to  the  bar- 
renness of  the  soil  and  seemed  to  subsist  irresolute  be- 
tween life  and  death.  Nor  was  the  house  itself  out  of 
keeping  with  the  general  aspect  of  wretchedness  and 
decay.  A  weather-stained,  two-roomed  hut  it  was,  nes- 
tling against  the  hillside,  its  roof  partly  of  tiles,  partly  of 
rough  thatch,  and  its  door  sagging  drunkenly  upon  rot- 
ting leather  hinges.  Obviously,  improvidence  and  want 
in  equal  portions  must  account  for  such  squalor. 

However  that  might  be,  on  this  day  the  lord  of  this 
shabby  domain  was  not  here  to  enter  a  defence  against 
such  charge.  He  had  gone  with  the  breaking  of  day  to 
Dinant,  there  to  learn  in  the  gossip  of  the  streets  the 
latest  developments  in  that  turbulent  town,  and  such 
tidings  as  might  be  had  from  the  army  of  Count  Charles ; 
incidentally,  to  expend  a  few  derniers  in  the  replenish- 
ment of  his  depleted  larder.  The  smoke,  which  from 
time  to  time  poured  in  varying  volume  through  the  tile- 
bound  hole  in  the  roof,  bore  witness  to  the  presence  of 
some  one  within. 

It  wanted  an  hour  of  mid-day  when  the  door  swung 
open  and  that  some  one  was  revealed  in  the  person  of  a 
bent  and  wizened  old  woman,  who  stood  for  a  moment 
in  the  opening.  Then  she  hobbled  without  and,  wringing 
the  water  from  some  clothing  she  carried  on  her  arm, 
proceeded  to  spread  the  pieces  to  dry  upon  the  rank 
weeds  bordering  the  house.  That  done,  she  turned  and 
looked  a  moment  along  the  path,  shading  her  blinking 
eyes  from  the  sun ;  not  that  she  expected  the  return  of 
her  spouse  before  nightfall,  but  because  it  had  become 
12  171 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


a  habit  with  her,  that  last  survey  before  returning  in- 
doors. 

No  living  thing  met  her  gaze  save  a  jackdaw  which 
passed  in  noisy  flight  over  the  trees,  and,  satisfied  in 
mind,  she  re-entered  and  the  door  creaked  to  behind 
her. 

Yet,  had  she  ventured  a  little  down  the  footway,  she 
might  have  seen  the  cause  of  the  jackdaw's  disquiet,  for 
it  was  at  this  precise  moment  that  Crepin  Brune  crept 
softly  into  the  tangle  of  thicket  at  the  pathside. 

Some  time  he  spent  in  treading  down  a  space  wherein 
he  might  lie  and  in  arranging  the  leafy  branches  so  that 
he  had  clear  view  down  the  path.  Then,  being  at  length 
content  with  his  preparations,  he  ran  his  hand  caressingly 
along  the  twisted  deerskin  forming  the  cord  of  his  bow, 
and  silently  tested  the  latter's  spring.  Which  done,  he 
extended  himself  prone  in  his  lair,  a  handful  of  keen- 
headed  shafts  at  his  elbow.  There  was  small  need  of  so 
many,  since  he  would  have  but  one  shot,  but  the  man, 
being  at  heart  a  craven,  found  that  their  very  numbers, 
as  he  fingered  them,  served  to  bolster  up  his  courage. 

As  he  lay  thus,  his  breath  came  and  went  like  the 
panting  of  a  dog,  for  he  had  come  far  at  a  rapid  pace 
and  the  day  was  hot.  Like  to  the  manner  of  a  dog,  too, 
was  the  sudden  stoppage  of  his  breathing  as  a  rustle  fell 
upon  his  ears  from  behind.  His  hand  flew  to  the  knife 
at  his  belt  and  he  turned  with  a  kind  of  forced  and 
dogged  courage  to  meet  whatever  danger  threatened  him. 
Even  so  may  cowardice,  pressed  to  extremity,  take  on  the 
aspect  of  daring. 

Ere  he  might  think  twice,  the  growth  behind  him 
parted  and  Marcelle  crept  into  view. 

The  arm  and  its  poised  blade  fell,  and  his  hand  shook, 
now  that  the  sudden  tension  was  ended. 

172 


UNDER  THE  GREAT  BALD  KNOLL 

"  Marcelle !  What  saint  or  devil  has  brought  you 
here  ?  "  he  cried  under  his  breath. 

"  No  saint,  nor  yet  any  devil,  Crepin ;  but  only  the 
great  longing  within  me  to  see  the  end  of  this  affair," 
she  answered. 

She,  too,  was  breathing  hard,  and  as  she  drew  near 
to  him  he  saw  the  wild  gleam  in  her  eyes. 

"The  end  of  what  affair?"  he  said.  "Bah;  one 
would  think  you  ne'er  had  seen  a  roebuck  take  his  death- 
leap " 

"  Oh,  Crepin  Brune,  a  truce  to  your  lies !  Does  one 
stalk  the  deer  in  such  spot  as  this  and  with  the  wind  upon 
one's  back  ?  Have  done !  Well  enough  I  know  why  you 
are  here ;  well  enough  for  whom  one  of  those  shafts  is 
intended,  since  you  and  that  other  would  discuss  the 
very  plan  with  only  a  thicket  between  where  you  sat  and 
where  I  lay.  Thus  you  hoped  to  scheme  behind  my  back ; 
to  reap  the  whole  reward  and  fame.  But  no ;  the  Fates 
ruled  otherwise,  and  I  am  here." 

As  she  spoke,  Crepin's  rage  rose  hot  within  him  at 
thought  of  how  he  had  betrayed  himself,  yet  he  fought 
it  down,  for  he  knew  not  how  much  of  the  plot  she  had 
overheard,  and  would  not  yield  at  this  first  word  of  hers. 

"  I  know  not  what  meeting  'tis  you  pretend  to  have 
seen,  or  what  schemes  you  think  to  have  heard,"  he  said 
sullenly.  "  But  whatever  they  be,  they  have  naught  to 
do  with  my  being  here ;  nor  can  you  give  me  instruction 
in  the  chase  of  deer;  for  'tis  across  this  very  path  here 
that  the  king  of  all  the  roebucks  is  wont  to  make  his 
way  to  the  water-hole  a  hundred  paces  distant.  I  had 
it  from  old  Meux  himself.  As  for  the  wind  you  speak  of, 
there  is  none." 

In  truth,  there  was  but  little,  yet  what  there  was  set 
the  way  Marcelle  had  said. 

173 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  By  my  faith,  Crepin,  you  are  greater  fool  than  I 
thought,  and  methinks  I  might  well  give  you  the  very 
instruction  you  lack !  "  she  answered.  "  It  well  accounts 
for  the  fact  that  ne'er  have  you  furnished  deer  meat  to 
the  camp  that  you  should  think  to  delude  me  with  such 
tale.  One  seeks  the  roebuck  at  this  hour  of  day  lying 
in  the  heaviest  shade;  they  move  not  abroad,  either  for 
food  or  water,  under  such  sun.  Moreover,  are  you  given 
to  naming  your  quarry  of  a  sudden,  that  this  particular 
king  of  them  all  should  be  called  the  Count  de  Charolais? 
If  so,  what  names  bear  those  others  who  rendezvous  at 
noon  on  the  Great  Bald  Knoll  yonder?  Bah,  you  fool; 
do  you  not  see  I  know  all  ?  " 

And  now,  indeed,  Crepin  did  curse  himself,  and  half 
aloud,  for  not  having  beaten  the  wood  with  greater  care 
before  discussing  this  venture. 

"  And  if  it  be  true,  what  then  ? "  he  muttered 
savagely.  "  Get  you  gone  from  here,  Marcelle !  Whether 
you  be  my  chief  or  no,  I  have  work  to  do  and  no  time  nor 
wish  for  chatter."  And  added  grudgingly,  "  As  for 
what  may  come  to  me  if  the  trick  works,  you  shall  have 
your  share." 

"  What  care  I  for  share  in  your  wretched  gold !  "  an- 
swered Marcelle,  her  eyes  burning  upon  his.  "  Think 
you  that  I  have  followed  you  hither  for  any  other  pur- 
pose than  to  be  in  at  the  death  of  him  you  wait  for? 
Did  I  not  keep  silent  as  to  what  I  knew,  fearful  that  if 
you  suspected  it,  the  plan  would  be  altered  and  I  so  de- 
prived of  this  satisfaction  ?  " 

"  So  it  was  but  to  see  the  stroke  delivered  that  you 
came,  eh,  Marcelle  ?  "  asked  Crepin,  his  gaze  fixed  upon 
her  face  and  a  strange  light  in  his  eyes,  which  caused 
her  inwardly  to  shudder. 

She  had  seen  that  same  light  there  once  before  and 
174 


UNDER  THE   GREAT   BALD  KNOLL 

long  ago,  when  Crepin  had  first  joined  the  band  and  had 
thought  to  see  in  her  fair  prey.  Not  long  had  he  been  in 
learning  his  mistake,  and  since  then  had  taken  good  care 
to  follow  the  narrow  way  she  had  left  him.  She  had  not 
forgotten,  but  had  believed  it  a  thing  of  the  past,  yet 
now  she  was  again  confronted  by  that  same  look  she  had 
seen  in  his  face  before — a  look  that  transformed  the  man 
into  something  bestial.  She  trembled,  but  spoke  bravely 
enough. 

"  It  was  for  that  alone  I  came,  Crepin.  Surely,  I  have 
done  enough  to  merit  such  right." 

He  rose  toward  her  on  his  elbow,  and  in  so  doing 
the  upper  half  of  the  long  bow  beneath  him  was  twisted 
into  view.  She  started  at  the  sight,  yet  sheer  horror  of 
what  she  read  in  his  eyes  held  her  speechless. 

"  By  God,  you  are  beautiful  enough  this  day  to  mad- 
den a  saint,  Marcelle !  "  he  muttered  hoarsely.  "  Ay,  and 
beautiful  enough  to  deserve  death  were  you  cruel  to  a 
man." 

She  shrank  from  the  arm  he  stretched  toward  her 
and  her  hand  fell  upon  the  bow-head  and  its  taut-drawn 
string,  and  again  she  started.  Now  was  her  time  if 
only — and  then  sheer  terror  of  the  man  forced  the  words 
from  her  and  the  blood  fled  in  panic  from  her  face. 

"  Have  a  care,  Crepin !  " 

He  sprang  upon  her. 

"  Ah,  you  would,  eh,  you  little  devil ! "  he  cried 
harshly  in  her  ear,  and  with  a  wrench  tore  the  small 
horn-cased  knife  from  her  hand,  even  as  it  left  her 
bosom. 

"  Small,  forsooth,  yet  no  pleasing  thing  to  have  be- 
tween one's  ribs.  I  choose  it  rather  without  than  within 
me,"  he  added  grimly,  and  dropped  it  inside  his  jerkin. 
"  So  you  would  have  knifed  me  in  a  second  more,  Mar- 

175 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


celle?  By  my  faith,  one  would  do  best  to  woo  such  a 
termagant  at  sword's  point !  " 

And  Marcelle  answered  not;  nor,  in  truth,  could  she 
have  done  so  surely,  since  she  knew  not  whether  she  had 
meant  to  turn  the  blade  against  the  tense  line  beneath 
her  hand  or  this  man's  heart.  Fear  had  forced  the 
drawing  of  the  weapon — fear  and  that  savagery  that  so 
becomes  a  woman  who  defends  her  honour — and  now  she 
had  not  helped  herself,  nor  performed  the  mission  upon 
which  she  had  come.  She  was  distracted  and  the  look 
upon  her  face  one  of  piteous  despair,  yet  would  she  fight 
back  and  with  weapons  perchance  more  formidable  than 
the  one  she  had  lost,  weapons  double-edged  with  a -fierce 
cunning  and  hatred. 

"  Ha !  You  have  not  now  so  much  to  say  for  your- 
self, Marcelle !  "  growled  Crepin.  "  Nay ;  nor  will  you 
e'er  again  have  Crepin  Brune  flogged  for  your  pleasure, 
for  with  this  day's  work  he  becomes  greater  than  you 
and  all  the  band  together." 

His  voice  again  grew  thick  as  he  approached  nearer 
to  her ;  but  this  time  she  did  not  shrink,  and  by  almost 
superhuman  spirit  forced  herself  to  bear  his  look. 

"  And  you  think  to  despise  me ;  to  look  on  the  feeling 
I  have  for  you  as  beneath  you,"  he  went  on  ravingly, 
and  seized  her  arm.  "  By  God,  you  shall  soon  know 
what  it  is  to  beg  favours  of  me,  Marcelle !  You'll  not 
draw  back  as  though  from  the  plague  when  I  take  you  in 
my  arms,  so,  and " 

But  here  she  thrust  him  violently  from  her,  ere  he 
thought  of  such  a  move,  for  he  believed  her  half-won. 

"  And  if  it  be  so  ?  "  she  cried  quickly.  "  If  I  might 
some  time  find  a  liking  for  you,  is  this  time,  this  place,  fit 
for  lovemaking,  Crepin?  And  if  while  so  engaged  the 
Count  de  Charolais  goes  free,  in  what  position  are  you 

176 


UNDER  THE  GREAT  BALD  KNOLL 

then?  Must  I,  a  woman,  remind  you  of  a  man's  work? 
Enough  of  this,  if  you  would  win  any  favour  in  my 
eyes!" 

He  looked  at  her  sharply,  but  she  met  his  gaze  fairly. 

"  You  are  right,  Marcelle,"  he  said.  "  It  is  a  com- 
pact, then,  between  us.  If  I  succeed,  you  promise " 

"  If  you  succeed  in  the  killing  of  the  Count  de  Charo- 
lais,  I  promise  you  that  ne'er  again  will  Marcelle  deny 
your  desires." 

He  laughed. 

"  And  a  moment  ago  you  would  have  done  for  me !  " 

"  I  might  have  struck ;  yes !  You  expect  too  much 
for  nothing.  Such  favour  as  you  may  desire  let  me  see 
you  gain,  here  with  my  own  eyes." 

He  pondered  a  moment,  then  answered  gruffly: 

"  Let  it  be  so,  then ;  you  shall  stay !  Yet  shall  our 
bargain  be  pledged  with  a  caress  from  those  lips  of 
yours,  Marcelle,  for  'twill  hearten  me  for  the  work  in 
hand." 

For  an  instant  he  held  her  passionately  to  him  and 
pressed  his  bearded  lips  heavily  upon  her  own  cold  ones. 
Then  with  a  low  cry  of  pleasure  turned  from  her  and  set 
himself  to  his  task  of  watching  the  path  through  the 
opening  he  had  made. 

Marcelle  fell  back  and  buried  her  face  in  the  trodden- 
down  twigs  and  leaves,  till  naught  showed  of  her  face 
under  her  black  mane  of  hair.  Her  form  shook  con- 
vulsively, and  Crepin,  turning  his  head  a  moment, 
shrugged  his  shoulders  derisively,  but  said  no  word. 
Women  were  women,  he  argued,  and  must  have  their 
fits  of  weeping.  What  concerned  him  was  that  she  had 
yielded  at  last  to  his  will. 

He  would  scarce  have  been  so  content  with  his 
victory  had  he  been  less  jubilant  and  observed  more 

177 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


closely,  for  beneath  that  screen  of  tousled  hair  a  perfect 
set  of  the  whitest  teeth  were  gnawing  a  bow-string  to  a 
thread.  Thus  had  Marcelle  imposed  upon  him,  yet  there 
was  no  measure  of  simulation  in  the  bitter  tears  she 
shed,  nor  in  the  sobs  that  shook  her  with  such  cruel 
shame. 

So  it  was  that  Crepin,  intent  on  watching  the  path 
below,  and  Marcelle  engaged  upon  her  task,  neither  saw 
the  Sieur  Giraud  as  he  came  from  the  wood  on  the  upper 
side  and,  walking  quickly  to  the  house,  threw  open  the 
door  and  entered. 

The  shadows  had  scarce  altered  their  positions  when 
Crepin,  of  a  sudden,  fell  swiftly  back  from  his  vantage 
point  and,  with  a  finger  on  his  lips,  touched  Marcelle  on 
the  shoulder. 

"  Quick,  quick,  Marcelle !  Yonder  comes  our  man, 
and  prompt  to  the  very  hour !  " 

Indeed  the  sun  now  blazed  fairly  overhead. 

Crepin  seized  his  bow,  and  Marcelle  was  perforce 
obliged  to  leave  her  task  undone,  yet  where  she  had 
gnawed  the  bow-string  was  reduced  to  a  mere  fibre,  and 
she  prayed  that  it  might  not  snap  too  soon  with  the  strain 
upon  it.  Perchance,  all  had  been  for  the  best,  for  had 
she  cut  the  string,  as  first  intended,  Crepin  must  have 
discovered  it.  That  would  have  meant  the  death  to  which 
she  had  thought  to  come  in  following  him  hither ;  now — 
but  why  speculate  upon  this  very  pressing  future.  She 
feared  lest  Crepin,  who  had  fitted  shaft  to  string,  would 
draw  silent  bow  to  test  its  strength.  But  he  was  too 
absorbed  in  watching  the  approach  of  his  prey  for  any 
other  thought,  and,  moreover,  had  thoroughly  tested  his 
weapon  but  a  little  time  before.  He  crouched,  cat-like, 
behind  his  cover,  and,  fascinated  with  the  strange  horror 
of  the  moment,  Marcelle  seemed  rooted  behind  him.  An 

178 


UNDER   THE  GREAT   BALD   KNOLL 

overwhelming  impulse  was  upon  her  to  fly,  yet  she  could 
not  move. 

And  now  she,  too,  could  see  Count  Charles  as  he 
came  swinging  up  the  path,  blocking  it  completely  with 
his  massive  body.  No  armour  did  he  wear  save  a  coat  of 
plated  mail  that  shone  dazzlingly  in  the  sunlight,  where 
the  overlying  tunic  left  some  part  exposed.  Yet  this 
tunic  was  scarcely  less  brilliant.  Sable  though  it  was  in 
hue,  its  heavy  embroideries  of  gold  and  its  great  crimson 
and  gold  Cross  of  St.  Andrew  glittered  resplendently. 
Great  boots  drawn  well  up  his  hose  testified  to  his  having 
been  but  recently  in  the  saddle,  and  a  huge  sword,  such 
as  only  a  man  of  his  stature  might  wield,  hung  at  his  side. 
Beneath  his  jewelled  and  plumed  cap  his  face,  reddened 
by  the  sun,  stood  out  in  all  its  boasted  assurance.  Well 
had  they  named  this  man  Charles  the  Bold,  for  in  the 
very  careless  stride  he  affected  was  a  fearlessness  be- 
yond compare. 

He  came  straight  onward,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
house  before  him,  and  Marcelle  saw  that  he  would  pass 
Crepin  scarce  the  length  of  his  body  away. 

Of  a  sudden  Crepin  straightened,  and  jerked  the  bow 
above  the  brush  before  him.  At  the  same  instant  the 
door  of  the  house  creaked  open  noisily,  and  the  Sieur 
Giraud  appeared  in  the  opening. 

"  Ha !  "  cried  Count  Charles,  and,  even  on  his  word, 
Crepin  drew  quick  bow. 

"  Pht !  " 

The  shaft  remained  fast  in  Crepin's  hand,  and  the 
parted  string  cut  lightly  across  his  face.  A  mad  curse 
burst  from  his  lips. 

Count  Charles  spun  about  on  his  heel — for  it  had 
been  Crepin's  plan  to  strike  him  from  behind — and,  with 
an  oath,  ripped  his  blade  free  of  its  sheath. 

179 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


But  Crepin  waited  not  his  onslaught.  Flinging  the 
shaft  and  bow  desperately  at  Count  Charles,  he  turned 
and  fled  incontinently  through  the  forest. 

Marcelle  lay  expecting  the  death-thrust  with  every 
rapid  flutter  of  her  heart. 

And  now,  to  complete  the  picture,  Monsieur  Vignolles 
burst  from  the  wood  before  the  house  and  stood  gaping, 
open-mouthed,  from  Count  Charles  to  the  Sieur  Giraud. 
The  former  had  made  no  attempt  to  follow  Crepin,  well 
knowing  he  might  not  hope  to  overtake  him,  handicapped 
as  he  was  by  dress,  but  had  again  turned  savagely  upon 
the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  So  there  was  some  trick  behind  this,  as.  I  was 
warned,"  he  roared,  "  and  you,  Sieur  Giraud,  you  and 
this  whelp  of  the  constable's  were  behind  it!  Then,  by 
Heaven,  you  shall  pay  for  it ! " 

He  drew  a  small  golden  whistle  from  his  tunic  and 
sounded  a  long  blast,  that  went  echoing  in  all  directions. 

In  an  instant  the  heights  of  the  Great  Bald  Knoll 
swarmed  with  men,  and  they  came  sprawling  down 
through  the  vines,  their  arms  flashing  fire  in  the  sun. 

"  Ha !  You  thought  the  Lion  would  come  to  the 
Sheep  for  slaughter  with  never  a  care,  did  you  ?  "  cried 
Count  Charles  mockingly,  and  shook  the  bow  and  shaft 
at  them. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  took  a  step  forward  and  cried: 

"  My  lord,  I  know  naught " 

"  And  now  you  would  fain  deny  the  very  evidence 
before  me !  "  shouted  Count  Charles  madly.  "  Once  did 
I  let  you  go,  but,  by  God  and  Our  Lady,  this  time  shall 
you  hang  high  as  the  highest  tree  may  swing  such 
offal!" 

As  he  ended  he  made  a  rush  at  the  two  with  upraised 
sword,  while  the  clatter  of  the  men  behind  grew  nearer. 

180 


UNDER  THE  GREAT  BALD  KNOLL 

Monsieur  Vignolles,  who  had  watched  all  wonder- 
ingly,  now  leaped  to  the  Sieur  Giraud's  side. 

"  You  know  naught  of  this  attack  upon  Count 
Charles !  "  he  gasped  hurriedly. 

"  Attack !  "  muttered  the  Sieur  Giraud  dazedly. 

"  No ;  by  my  faith,  that  you  do  not !  "  cried  Monsieur 
Vignolles.  "  Come,  then,  man,  I  may  yet  save  you." 

He  seized  the  other  by  the  arm  and  dragged  him 
bodily  into  the  wood. 

"  Follow  me  as  though  all  hell  was  loose  after  you, 
for  so  it  is,"  he  cried,  as  Count  Charles  plunged  from 
the  path  after  them. 

But  in  his  raging  haste  the  count  took  no  note  of  a 
running  root,  and  they  heard  him  come  heavily  to  earth. 
Then,  as  they  ran,  they  became  conscious  that  another 
ran  with  them,  and  they  both  whirled  about  to  ward  off 
such  pursuer. 

It  was  Marcelle.  She  had  fled,  even  as  they  had,  and 
scarce  knowing  or  caring  whither  she  went.  By  chance, 
they  had  taken  the  same  direction;  but  now  she  was 
exhausted,  and  might  not  go  another  step.  As  they 
turned  upon  her  she  sank  to  the  ground,  a  palpitating 
little  heap. 

"  Let  the  cursed  wench  go ! "  cried  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles, while  the  noise  of  pursuit  came  ever  nearer. 
"  'Tis  she  who  has  been  at  the  bottom  of  this  devilry, 
I'll  be  sworn,  else  why  is  she  here?  Come,  man,  I  have 
horses  near  at  hand — stolen  they  are,  in  truth,  as  I  came 
hither,  but  I  thought  they  might  serve  my  lady  later, 
and  what  matters  it?  Ne'er  will  they  be  of  greater  ser- 
vice than  now.  Come !  " 

Marcelle  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  up  into  the  face 
of  the  Sieur  Giraud ;  then  lowered  her  gaze  as  quickly. 
She  could  not  bear  the  look  in  his  eyes. 

181 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


"  Come,  man,  let  this  Marcelle  pay  for  her  frolic ! 
They  are  almost  upon  us !  "  cried  Monsieur  Vignolles. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  roused  suddenly  to  action. 

"  No ;  I  will  not  believe  it  after  what  she  has  said 
to  me  this  day.  I  will  not  leave  her,  monsieur." 

And  with  that  he  picked  her  up  as  he  might  have 
a  child  and  ran  onward,  and  his  feet  seemed  lighter, 
despite  the  burden. 

How  they  came  to  the  horses  in  only  the  nick  of  time, 
mounted  and  rode  away,  twisting,  turning,  and  doubling 
through  such  open  trails  as  they  found  before  them,  till 
all  pursuit  had  been  left  far  behind  and  they  might  relax 
their  pace,  is  scarce  of  moment. 

What  is  noteworthy,  though,  is  that,  as  they  rode 
slowly  back  into  the  hills  near  Dinant,  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles, perchance  smitten  with  the  harshness  of  his 
recent  words  toward  Marcelle,  on  offering  to  relieve 
the  Sieur  Giraud  of  his  burden,  was  met  by  a  sharp 
refusal. 

And  this  bluntness,  considering  what  he  had  done 
for  the  Sieur  Giraud,  struck  Monsieur  Vignolles  as  being 
ungrateful,  to  say  the  least. 


182 


CHAPTER  XII 
GONE! 

IT  was  mid-afternoon  when  they  reached  the  ravine 
below  the  camp  and  dismounted,  the  Sieur  Giraud 
lowering  Marcelle  to  the  ground.    Many  a  blessing 
had  he  invoked  upon  the  head   of  Tite  as  they 
had  ridden  thither,  for  the  good  beasts  which  had  borne 
them  to  safety  were  none  others  than  those  which  had 
fallen  to  Tite  from  the  bishop's  messenger.     Unable  to 
dispose  of  them  to  his  satisfaction,  Tite  had  kept  them 
picketed  in  favourable  feeding  places  about  the  camp, 
and  it  was  in  one  of  these  spots  that  Monsieur  Vignolles, 
speeding  with  all  haste  to  the  vine-grower's,  had  come 
upon  them.    Their  harness  he  remembered  to  have  seen 
in  Tite's  burrow,  and  he  had  succeeded  in  laying  hands 
on  it  without  being  observed. 

But  now,  even  as  they  set  about  unsaddling  and  re- 
picketing  the  horses,  Tite  suddenly  broke  from  the  wood 
upon  them.  His  face  was  red,  and  the  sweat  had  soaked 
through  his  jerkin  till  it  was  one  great  stain. 

"  So,  'tis  you  who  steal  a  man's  belongings  with  ne'er 
so  much  as  '  by  your  leave ' ! "  he  cried,  his  grizzled 
brows  drawn  into  angry  furrows.  "  The  devil's  chase 
have  I  had  in  search  of " 

He  broke  off  suddenly  as  he  saw  Marcelle  for  the 
first  time. 

"  And  you,  Marcelle ;  what  have  you  to  do  with  such 
knavish  work  ?  ':  he  growled. 

183 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


Ere  she  might  answer  Monsieur  Vignolles  turned 
on  him  and  said  quickly : 

"  Let  her  alone,  old  Whitehead.  Other  knavish  work 
she  may  be  concerned  in,  but  this  is  none  of  it.  I  took 
your  horses — though,  in  truth,  I  knew  not  they  were 
yours — and  they  suffer  no  harm  from  the  little  jaunt 
they've  had.  So,  if  you've  anything  to  say,  say  it  to  me, 
and,  if  you'd  fight  over  it,  I  am  at  your  service  directly 
I've  made  this  brute  fast." 

Tite  made  an  angry  stride  toward  him,  but  Marcelle 
raised  her  hand. 

"  Stop,  Tite ;  you  know  not  what  you  do.  For  the 
taking  of  your  property  I  alone  shall  answer,  and  for 
your  trouble  you  shall  be  well  paid." 

He  looked  at  her  in  silence  a  moment ;  then  said  gruffly : 

"  I  want  no  dispute  with  you,  Marcelle ;  and  if  you 
rule  that  any  young  jackanapes  can  pilfer  the  very  bed 
from  under  me,  I  say  so  be  it  this  time.  But  if  I  catch 
him  at  it  again,  you  will  not  be  troubled  to  interfere." 

"  Nor  shall  I,  Tite,  since  it  will  not  happen  again," 
replied  Marcelle.  "  I  may  tell  you  no  more,  save  that 
these  beasts  have  to-day  saved  three  lives,  methinks." 

"  One  being  your  own  ?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

"  I  make  no  doubt  of  that,  but  question  me  no  further, 
for  I  may  not  answer." 

Tite  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"No;  I'll  inquire  no  more  into  your  affairs.  By  St. 
Hubert,  there's  much  goes  on  in  this  camp  that  a  man 
is  best  blind  to !  Say  no  further  word  of  this,  then,  nor 
of  pay  for  any  plague  of  mine,  since  your  life  was  con- 
cerned. To  say  truth,  methought  'twas  the  work  of 
those  curs  below,  though  they  should  scarce  have  rallied 
by  now  from  the  welting  you  gave  them,  Sieur  Giraud." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  wheeled  quickly. 
184 


GONE! 

"  And  how  know  you  that  they  have  rallied  ?  "  he 
asked  in  some  surprise,  for  he  had  thought  to  have  dealt 
that  band  a  lasting  blow. 

"  Because,  this  morning,  Poncet  saw  the  camp  of 
some  threescore  of  them  not  half  a  league  down  the  val- 
ley ;  and,  within  the  hour,  I  nearly  ran  into  the  same  nest 
while  looking  for  the  horses.  Tis  my  notion  they  only 
wait  for  help  from  over  the  river  to  set  upon  us.  When 
they  come,  'twill  be  no  child's  play,  for,  thanks  to  you, 
they'll  have  a  heavy  score  to  settle." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  nodded  thoughtfully.  As  for  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles,  he  wheeled  about  with  a  dancing  light 
in  his  eyes. 

"  Do  my  ears  hear  aright,  that  you  speak  of  a  fight, 
old  Whitehead  ? "  he  cried.  "  Faith,  as  little  scruple 
would  I  have  in  bearing  arms  against  you  as  for  you ; 
but  since  I  am  here,  and  the  very  smell  of  it  in  the  air,  I 
cast  my  lot  with  you !  I  have  done  naught  but  dance  to 
the  strum  of  your  bow-string  since  coming  here,  and  I 
would  have  a  hand  if  these  other  thieves  are  to  perform." 

Tite  smiled  grimly.  These  were  the  men,  this  Sieur 
Giraud  and  Monsieur  Vignolles,  whom  he  valued  at  their 
proper  worth  when  it  came  to  fighting.  They  were  bred 
to  it,  while  he  and  the  others  had  been  driven  to  forsake 
the  implements  of  trade  for  the  bow.  He  did  not  think 
the  less  of  Monsieur  Vignolles  for  his  failure  to  protect 
the  Lady  Agathe  against  him  and  nine  others.  How- 
ever, he  only  said  bluntly: 

"  And  if  you  were  armed,  monsieur,  what  surety 
would  there  be  you  would  not  turn  upon  us  ?  What  say 
you,  Marcelle?" 

"  That  I  would  take  the  word  of  Monsieur  Vignolles," 
she  answered  quickly.  "  If  we  are  set  upon,  we  shall 
need  all  the  force  we  may  muster." 

185 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  I  thank  you.  My  word  you  shall  have,  then,  for 
this  engagement,"  answered  Monsieur  Vignolles,  bowing 
shortly.  "  Yet  I  will  give  you  no  pledge,  nor  will  I  fight 
under  your  badge,  for  'tis  for  my  own  diversion  I  join 
you  and  not  from  any  liking  for  you." 

The  time  had  been,  not  long  before,  when  Marcelle 
would  have  taken  this  speech  in  different  fashion.  Now 
she  merely  bowed,  and  answered  quietly : 

"  I  understand.  Tite,  restore  to  Monsieur  Vignolles 
such  of  his  arms  as  he  may  desire." 

Tite  remained  for  a  moment,  looking  fixedly  at  her, 
then  shook  himself  and,  picking  up  the  harness,  beckoned 
Monsieur  Vignolles  to  follow. 

As  they  went  up  the  hill  together,  the  Sieur  Giraud 
spoke.  His  quiet  tone  hardly  reflected  the  turmoil  within 
him. 

"  And  now,  Marcelle,  I  am  waiting." 

She  started,  yet  she  had  known  it  was  coming.  The 
woman  in  her  made  her  seek  to  stave  off  the  inevitable. 

"  Waiting,  Sieur  Giraud  ?     For  what " 

"  Have  done  with  foolery,  Marcelle ;  I  am  in  no  mood 
for  it!  This  day  have  I  seen  murder  attempted,  foul 
murder  that  failed,  methinks,  only  because  the  wretch 
who  would  have  done  it  lost  heart  at  the  last  moment." 

"  Lost  heart  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  Ay,  lost  heart ;  nor  am  I  surprised  thereat,  since 
'twas  likely  none  other  than  that  knave  Crepin — but  why 
go  over  it  all  again?  Think  you  I  am  longer  blind  to 
the  way  I  have  been  tricked,  and  that  I  know  not  it  was 
some  tampering  with  my  letter  that  brought  Count 
Charles  to  the  vine-grower's?  Why,  I  could  see  he 
looked  for  me  just  before  the  shot — if  shot  it  can  be 
called — and  he  accused  me  of  laying  the  trap  in  a  way 
that  leaves  no  doubt." 

186 


GONE ! 

"  Am  I  to  be  charged  with  all  that  Crepin  may  do?  " 
she  asked,  fighting  for  time  to  think.  All  the  way  through 
the  forest  had  she  been  thinking,  yet  had  not  been  able 
to  settle  on  any  plan. 

"  I  am  not  charging  you  with  all  that  Crepin  may 
have  done,"  he  replied  sternly.  "  I  am  not  so  short  of 
memory  as  to  have  forgotten  already  what  you  said  of 
Count  Charles — what  you  tried  to  make  me  say  regard- 
ing his  death — yonder  at  my  post  on  the  hills." 

"  That — that  was  before,"  she  said  brokenly. 

"Ay,  and  should  have  opened  my  eyes  wider,  but  I 
believed  it  but  mad  rage  that  prompted  your  words.  This 
morning,  when  I  spoke  to  you  of  going  away,  of  the  re- 
lease of  the  Lady  Agathe,  methought  that  ne'er  had  I  seen 
any  woman  more  kind  and  gentle,  and — but  why  bring 
that  back  when  at  the  very  moment  you  were  acting  the 
lie?  You,  it  was;  you,  it  must  have  been,  who,  with 
some  false  tale,  turned  my  lady  against  me,  and  all  be- 
cause the  very  devil  within  you  twists  you  from  good 
impulse  to  bad  as  the  wind  veers  to  the  four  points." 

"  I  had  naught  to  do  with  the  Lady  Agathe's  refusal 
to  see  you,  nor  did  I  suspect  her  distrust  of  you  till  she 
did  so,"  answered  Marcelle. 

He  started.  Was  it  possible  that  the  Lady  Agathe 
had  in  some  way  learned  of  the  plot  against  Count 
Charles  ? 

"  You  know  what  it  was  my  lady  held  against  me ! " 
he  cried  sharply.  "  Had  it  to  do  with  this  affair  at  the 
vine-grower's  ?  " 

She  made  no  reply,  for  her  brain  was  whirling. 
What  should  she  do?  Should  she  confess  all?  Oh! 
How  dearly  would  she  love  to  tell  this  man  of  the  part 
she  had  played,  yet 

Again  his  harsh  words  broke  in  upon  her  thoughts. 
13  187 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  So  it  did  have  to  do  with  this  dastardly  plan.  And 
you — you,  Marcelle,  knowing  I  had  naught  to  do  with 
it,  let  my  lady  believe  in  my  guilt.  Ha!  And  so  you 
would,  fearing  lest  my  lady  and  I  should  meet  and  she 
tell  me  all.  God  knows,  she  would  have  done  so,  for 
ne'er  was  truer  heart  than  hers." 

His  words  stung  her  cruelly.  Always,  always  it  was 
this  praise  of  the  other  she  must  hear  from  him.  Not 
that  she  longer  hated  the  Lady  Agathe;  in  truth,  she 
would  have  resented  any  reproach  cast  upon  her,  but 
to  have  the  Sieur  Giraud  so  extol  her  goodness  was  un- 
bearable. 

"  Yes,  the  Lady  Agathe,  in  truth,  would  have  told 
you  all,"  she  said  bitterly,  and,  with  the  words,  put  be- 
hind her  all  thought  of  confession.  Hers  had  been  the 
hand  which  had  averted  this  crime,  yet  what  would  he 
see  in  that  save  the  use  of  the  humble  instrument.  To 
the  other  would  go  all  his  praise. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  had  been  pacing  up  and  down  rest- 
lessly, and  now  stopped  before  her. 

"  You  admit  having  kept  my  lady  deceived,"  he  said. 
"  There  is  but  one  deduction ;  you  wished  for  the  success 
of  this  plot  and  were  there  to  see  it  consummated.  My 
God,  had  I  believed  that — had  I  been  sure  of  that — I 
would  have  left  you  lying  where  you  fell  back  there !  " 

He  paused,  and,  removing  his  cap,  tore  from  it  the 
green  shoot  that  adorned  it. 

"  I  would  not  be  thought  to  have  less  scruple  than 
Monsieur  Vignolles,"  he  said  coldly,  and  dropped  it  at 
her  feet;  then  turned  on  his  heel. 

All  things  seemed  growing  black  around  her,  and 
she  swayed  till  her  hand  found  the  support  of  a  tree. 

"  You  are  going — for  ever  ?  "  she  gasped. 

A  moment  he  paused  and  looked  back. 
188 


GONE! 

"  I  am  going  to  learn  what  I  may  from  Monsieur 
Vignolles ;  then,  to  acquit  myself  in  the  eyes  of  my  Lady 
Agathe,"  he  said,  and  in  a  moment  was  gone. 

Marcelle  closed  her  eyes,  and  for  some  time  leaned 
heavily  against  the  tree.  Then  of  a  sudden  she  roused 
and,  with  a  startled  cry,  flew  up  the  hill.  But  one  thing 
was  now  in  her  mind.  This  meeting  of  the  Sieur  Giraud 
and  the  Lady  Agathe  must  be  prevented;  never  could 
she  suffer  that. 

"  Poor  Marcelle !  Nobly  have  you  acquitted  your- 
self this  day;  splendid  your  willingness  to  die  that  an- 
other might  live;  sublime  your  conquest  of  that  evil 
impulse  within  you !  Yet  the  light  that  you  have  seen 
has  been  but  a  passing  flare ;  the  chastening  of  your  wild 
spirit  has  but  begun,  and  uncurbed  passion  in  full  flood 
sweeps  away  your  better  self.  Take  heed,  lest  you  o'er- 
step  the  brink  of  that  dark  chasm  whereon  you  totter! 
Take  heed  lest  this  glimpse  you  have  caught  of  the 
breaking  dawn  be  blotted  out  for  ever  in  the  darkness 
of  that  pit !  " 

Thus  did  a  voice  whisper  in  her  ears  as  she  ran  on 
toward  her  cabin ;  yet  she  heard  it  as  though  from  afar, 
and  the  frenzied  passion  that  possessed  her  was  very 
near. 

She  came  upon  the  Lady  Agathe  seated  upon  the 
end  of  a  prostrate  pine,  and,  at  sight  of  her,  pulled  up 
sharply;  for  covering  the  fair  figure  of  my  lady  was 
now  the  green  velvet  bodice  and  kirtle  of  a  Companion. 
From  the  spray  of  green  in  her  hair  to  the  tips  of  her 
thong-bound  toes  the  Lady  Agathe,  in  dress,  was  a 
replica  of  Marcelle  herself.  At  her  side,  with  her  head 
bent  in  critical  approval,  stood  Petite  Maman,  and,  in- 
deed, even  in  so  short  a  time,  she  and  the  others  had 
fashioned  this  attire  quite  to  their  satisfaction.  Per- 

189 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


chance  it  followed  not  so  closely  the  curves  of  the  figure 
as  did  Marcelle's;  but  the  Lady  Agathe  had  always  a 
way  of  bearing  her  attire  that  was  ample  reward  to 
those  whose  handiwork  it  was. 

As  she  saw  Marcelle  she  sprang  up  with  a  cry  of 
relief. 

"  You — you  have  succeeded,  Marcelle  ?  "  she  asked 
anxiously.  "  You  see,  I  have  been  true  to  my  word, 
and  have  pledged  it  in  this  dress." 

Marcelle  did  not  answer  her  at  once,  but  said  to  the 
other : 

"  You  have  done  well,  Petite  Maman,  and  I  am 
pleased  with  the  speed  you  have  shown.  Know  you 
where  Poncet  or  Andre  may  be  found  ?  " 

"  Poncet  I  saw  going  toward  the  camp  but  a  few 
moments  ago,  Marcelle,"  answered  the  woman.  "  As 
for  Andre,  he  is  in  the  hills  with  most  of  the  others, 
watching  those  rogues  from  over  the  river." 

"  Do  you  search  for  and  bring  Poncet  hither ;  ay, 
and  one  other  of  the  band,  it  matters  not  whom.  And 
go  with  all  haste  upon  the  errand." 

"  As  soon  as  they  may  be  found  they  shall  be  here, 
if  I  have  to  bring  them  one  under  each  arm,"  answered 
Petite  Maman,  and  departed  in  the  direction  of  the 
camp. 

Marcelle  turned  to  the  Lady  Agathe. 

"  You  should  have  more  care  how  you  speak  before 
others,  Agathe,"  she  said,  and  tossed  her  head  toward 
the  retreating  figure. 

"  I  know — I  know,  and  am  sorry ;  but  the  words 
escaped  me  ere  I  thought,"  cried  the  Lady  Agathe. 
"  But  now,  speak,  Marcelle !  In  pity's  name,  relieve 
my  anxiety.  You  have  succeeded?  Count  Charles 
lives?" 

190 


GONE! 

"  Count  Charles  lives ;  yes,  I  have  seen  to  that, 
Agathe." 

In  an  instant  the  other  had  thrown  her  arms  about 
Marcelle,  and  was  breathing  soft  and  broken  words  of 
relief  and  thanks  into  her  ears.  As  for  Marcelle,  she 
seemed  to  suffer  the  embrace  rather  than  find  pleasure 
in  it ;  but  the  Lady  Agathe  noticed  this  not  at  all  in  her 
own  joy. 

"  Thank  God,  that  danger  is  past !  "  she  said.  "  Oh, 
Marcelle,  what  a  wondrous  power  you  are  in  these  Ar- 
dennes! Tell  me — tell  me  how  you  have  accomplished 
what  no  other  might  have  done." 

Here,  indeed,  was  praise  and  recognition,  yet  Mar- 
celle betrayed  no  gratification.  She  had  nerved  herself 
not  to  do  so,  and  she  answered  shortly  enough: 

"  Agathe,  bid  me  not  rehearse  what  has  gone  before. 
Enough  that  you  know  I  have  kept  my  trust  with  you, 
and  that  my  hand  saved  Count  Charles  from  the  certain 
death  that  menaced  him.  Crepin  it  was  who  would 
have  done  him  to  death,  had  his  bow-string  been  more 
sound." 

"And — and  the  Sieur  Giraud,  you — you  saw  him 
there,  at  the  vine-grower's?" 

"  Yes,  he  was  there,"  answered  Marcelle  quickly. 
"  But  come,  Agathe,  another  time  will  answer  for  de- 
tails, and " 

"  Did  Count  Charles  see  the  Sieur  Giraud  ? "  per- 
sisted the  other. 

"Ay,  and  set  upon  him  with  drawn  sword,  so  that 
he  must  have  fallen  had  not  Monsieur  Vignolles " 

She  paused  suddenly.    In  a  moment  more  she  would 
have  told  the  Lady  Agathe  that  which  would  have  con- 
vinced her  of  the  Sieur  Giraud's  innocence. 
-  "  Oh,  ask  me  not  to  say  what  took  place,"  she  went 

191 


on  rapidly.  "  There  was  much  shouting  and  cursing — 
soldiers  rushing  down  the  hillside,  and  then  we  were 
chased  like  deer  through  the  forest  till  we  shook  them 
off  and  made  our  way  here." 

"  Then  the  Sieur  Giraud  escaped  ?  "  cried  the  Lady 
Agathe. 

"  Ay ;  he  is  safe  enough  and  Monsieur  Vignolles  as 
well,"  answered  Marcelle.  "  But  I  tell  you,  Agathe,  there 
is  no  time  for  going  over  all  this.  You  have  had  your 
wish,  and  the  Count  de  Charolais  will  live,  perchance  to 
butcher  us  all  some  day.  You  heard  what  Petite  Maman 
said  of  the  men  watching  the  band  from  over  the  river. 
'Tis  the  same  band  that  the  Sieur  Giraud  and  some  of 
our  men  fought  yesterday.  They  have  recruited  their 
strength  to  three-score  and  are  close  upon  us,  and  when 
they  come,  this  will  be  no  place  for  you.  You  must  leave 
the  camp  at  once." 

The  Lady  Agathe's  heart  fluttered  tumultuously,  for 
the  mere  thought  of  fighting  filled  her  with  fear  and 
dread.  Yet  she  assumed  a  courage  she  was  far  from 
feeling. 

"  Leave  the  camp,  Marcelle  ?  What  mean  you,  and 
even  did  I  do  so,  where  should  I  go  ?  " 

"  That  I  have  arranged,"  answered  Marcelle.  "  At 
any  hour  now,  by  night  or  day,  these  others  may  be  upon 
us.  Perchance  we  shall  beat  them  off,  but,  in  any  event, 
you  shall  not  remain  to  take  that  risk.  Yonder,  scarce  an 
hour's  walk  through  the  valley,  lies  Dinant.  There  you 
will  be  safe.  Poncet  and  the  other  for  whom  I  have  sent 
will  lead  you  thither,  and  you  should  be  within  the  walls 
before  the  gates  are  closed,  if  you  start  at  once.  I  will 
send  with  you  Petite  Maman  and  Bonne  Fleuron,  who 
will  conduct  you  to  a  house  where  you  will  be  well  cared 
for,  and  there  will  remain  with  you.  If  those  who  attack 

192 


GONE! 

us  do  not  gain  the  upper  hand,  I  myself  shall  come  to 
you  ere  long." 

"  But  I  would  prefer  remaining  here,  Marcelle !  I 
would  rather  share  such  fortune  as  may  befall  you,  now 
that  I  have  entered  upon  it." 

"  And  I  say  that  I  will  not  have  you  here !  "  cried 
Marcelle,  stamping  her  foot.  "  You  have  no  part  in  this 
hill  strife;  and  what,  in  truth,  could  you  do  to  help? 
Can  you  draw  bow  and  be  sure  your  shaft  will  find  its 
mark  ?  No ;  nor  can  you  see  the  difference  between  the 
forest  shadows  and  those  flitting  ones  that  betoken  the 
foe  in  the  half-light  of  evening.  These  things  we,  who 
have  lived  in  these  hills,  can  do,  and  so  we  stay.  That 
I  send  the  two  women  with  you  means  the  loss  of  two 
good  bows ;  yet  go  you  shall,  and  at  once ! " 

There  was  no  denying  the  decision  in  her  tone.  In 
truth,  the  Lady  Agathe  might  have  refused  absolutely; 
but  at  heart  she  still  feared  this  girl  whose  will  seemed 
law;  and,  moreover,  she  felt  that  Marcelle  had  softened 
toward  her  and  was  thinking  only  of  her  welfare.  If 
this  had  not  been  enough  to  decide  her,  the  service  Mar- 
celle had  done  that  day  would  have  sufficed. 

The  Lady  Agathe  rose. 

"  I  will  go,"  she  said  simply,  and  then  added  quickly, 
"  And  Monsieur  Vignolles,  he — he  remains  here  ?  " 

Marcelle  looked  at  her  sharply,  but  the  Lady  Agathe's 
face  was  averted. 

"  You  will  scarce  expect  me  to  send  more  men  than 
are  needed,"  said  Marcelle.  "  Even  Poncet  and  the  other 
must  return  with  all  speed.  As  for  Monsieur  Vignolles, 
he  will  lend  us  too  strong  a  hand  to  be  spared." 

She  swung  about  nervously  at  sound  of  footsteps  be- 
hind her ;  but  it  was  only  Petite  Maman  with  Poncet  and 
Moise,  and  she  again  turned  hastily  to  the  Lady  Agathe. 

193 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  Make  a  bundle  of  your  clothing  and  they  shall  carry 
it;  and  waste  no  time,"  she  said  sharply,  and  the  Lady 
Agathe  ran  to  the  cabin  and  disappeared  within  the 
entrance. 

Marcelle  turned  to  the  others  and  spoke  shortly  but 
earnestly,  while  Petite  Maman  ran  to  the  women's 
quarters. 

When  the  Lady  Agathe  emerged  with  her  bundle  she 
found  her  escort  of  four  awaiting  her.  The  woman, 
Bonne  Fleuron,  relieved  her  of  her  burden  and  they 
started  forward  quickly.  But  the  Lady  Agathe  lingered 
a  moment. 

"  Good-bye,  Marcelle,  and  God  keep  you  from 
harm ! "  she  said.  "  What  you  do  is  for  my  profit,  I 
know,  and  thank  you  for  it.  You  will  come  soon  to 
Dinant?" 

"  I  shall  come  soon  to  Dinant  if — but  you  know, 
Agathe ;  go — go  quickly !  " 

And  with  that  they  took  up  their  way  along  the  ridge 
and  the  wood  swallowed  them  up. 

Marcelle  remained  an  instant  looking  after  them; 
then  with  a  quick-drawn  breath  plunged  into  the  forest 
back  of  the  cabin. 

It  was  a  full  half-hour  later  when  the  Sieur  Giraud 
and  Monsieur  Vignolles  came  hurriedly  into  the  little 
clearing  before  the  cabin.  They  had  had  much  to  discuss, 
and  the  Sieur  Giraud  had  learned  all  that  the  other  knew. 
This  time  he  showed  no  scruple,  but  strode  quickly  to 
the  entrance. 

"  My  Lady  Agathe,"  he  called  softly,  and  on  receiv- 
ing no  response,  repeated  the  cry  in  a  louder  voice. 

A  crow  cawed  noisily  from  a  near-by  treetop  as 
though  in  derision. 

194 


GONE! 

One  of  the  women — Ulrique  Cadet,  it  was — thrust 
her  head  from  the  door  of  their  quarters,  some  score 
paces  distant. 

"  The  Lady  Agathe ;  I  would  see  her — know  you 
where  she  may  be  found  ?  "  cried  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

The  woman  laughed  coarsely. 

"  Are  you  mad,  man,  that  you  think  to  find  such  as 
she  here  with  the  first  whiff  of  trouble  in  the  air — you, 
who  should  know  her  sort  ?  " 

"  A  pox  on  your  wagging  tongue,  woman !  Where 
is  the  Lady  Agathe  ?  " 

Ulrique  found  a  great  pleasure  in  tantalizing  this  man 
whom  she  felt  was  above  her.  It  was  an  opportunity  not 
often  vouchsafed  her,  and  therefore  she  made  no  haste 
in  answering  his  angry  query. 

"If  you  know  not  the  breed,  by  my  faith,  I  do  well 
enough !  "  she  mocked.  "  When  all  is  serene  'tis  '  Make 
way  for  my  lady ! '  and  curtsey  to  the  ground  and  dodge 
the  horses  lest  you  be  trampled  underfoot.  But  let  them 
once  scent  danger,  and  'tis  '  Step  forward,  my  good  man, 
or  my  good  woman,  and  a  piece  of  gold  for  those  you 
leave  behind  if  you  die.'  Ha!  Trust  them  to  look 
after " 

"  A  thousand  curses  on  your  gabble !  "  cried  the  Sieur 
Giraud,  striding  rapidly  toward  her.  "  Once  more,  I  ask 
you  where  the  Lady  Agathe  may  be  found." 

His  look  sobered  the  woman  and  she  withdrew  half- 
way within  the  hut. 

"  Would  you  find  her  ?  Seek  her  then  in  Dinant, 
whither  she  has  gone  to  save  her  precious  skin ! "  she 
rasped  forth  sullenly,  and  slammed  the  door  in  his  face. 

"Dinant!    Gone!" 

The  Sieur  Giraud  looked  blankly  at  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles. 

'95 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  Then,  by  all  the  saints,  will  we,  too,  go  to  Dinant !  " 
he  cried. 

His  challenging  tone  was  needlessly  emphatic.  They 
were  both  going  to  Dinant,  though  not  quite  in  the  way 
he  anticipated. 


196 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    FATES    AND    CREPIN    BRUNE 

WHATEVER  else  might  be  said  for  or  against 
Crepin — and  there  was  much  that  fell  un- 
der the  latter  head — his  knowledge  of  that 
part  of  the  Ardennes  which  he  and  the 
Companions  roamed  was,  beyond  a  doubt,  comprehen- 
sive. 

There  had,  indeed,  been  much  reason  in  Marcelle's 
sneer  at  his  failure  to  do  his  share  toward  supplying 
the  camp  kettle,  and  as  a  deer-stalker,  Crepin  was  far 
from  being  a  prodigy.  Yet  there  was  scarce  a  deer-path 
or  runway  thereabout  that  he  had  not  passed  over  time 
and  again,  and,  despite  Marcelle's  scoffing,  he  had 
brought  many  an  antlered  head  to  earth.  This  had  been 
on  occasions  when  long  pursuit  had  not  been  needful 
and  the  game  had  literally  walked  to  meet  its  death. 
That  these  trophies  had  never  appeared  at  the  camp  was 
true  enough,  for,  above  all,  Crepin  was  essentially  lazy, 
and  avoided  the  packing  of  a  deer  carcass  a  league  or 
two  as  he  would  have  shunned  the  plague.  The  choicest 
cut  had  sufficed  his  immediate  needs,  and  the  rest  he  had 
left  to  the  more  energetic  scavengers  of  the  forest. 

So  it  was  that,  equipped  with  this  extensive  wood 
lore,  he  rapidly  left  behind  the  shouting  and  noise  of 
pursuit,  and,  first  falling  into  a  walk,  finally  stopped  and 
threw  himself  full  length  on  the  ground.  He  had  nearly 
doubled  on  his  track,  deeming  that  the  safer  method. 

Till  he  had  regained  his  breath,  he  lay  quite  still, 
197 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


gazing  upward  into  the  leafy  vault.  He  wondered  how 
it  had  fared  with  Marcelle,  and  ground  his  teeth  sav- 
agely at  thought  of  how  he  had  lost  all  that  she  had 
promised  him;  but,  most  of  all,  he  wondered  what  had 
made  his  bow-string  give  way  in  such  fashion.  Never 
did  it  occur  to  him  that  to  leave  the  girl  as  he  had  was 
aught  but  natural.  Then  he  fell  to  thinking  what  course 
was  left  open  to  him,  and  it  flashed  upon  him  that  it 
depended  on  Marcelle's  fate  alone.  If  she  had  been 
taken,  he  made  no  doubt  that  she  had  already  been 
swung  to  a  tree,  for  Count  Charles  would  hang  a  Com- 
panion, man  or  woman,  with  never  a  thought  of  the 
sex.  That  being  so,  he,  Crepin,  might  venture  back  to 
the  camp.  But  suppose  she  had  escaped.  In  that  case 
better  might  she  hope  for  pity  from  Count  Charles  than 
Crepin  from  her,  after  what  had  occurred  between  them 
and  his  subsequent  failure.  However,  he  believed  that 
she  could  hardly  have  got  free — for  he  knew  naught  of 
the  Sieur  Giraud  or  Monsieur  Vignolles  being  there — 
and  he  resolved  to  approach  the  camp  that  night  and 
discover  the  truth  for  himself.  Meanwhile,  he  was  safe 
— though  bitterly  he  cursed  his  luck — and  had  but  to  lie 
quiet  until  nightfall.  Content  with  his  own  escape,  he 
kicked  his  feet  lazily  in  the  air. 

Often  enough  the  Fates  seem  to  smile  upon  the 
designs  of  a  rogue,  and  doubtless  Crepin  had  precedent 
to  lend  weight  to  his  philosophy.  But  it  so  chanced  that 
a  part  of  the  constable's  force,  having  been  delayed  in 
the  pursuit  of  a  score  of  vagabonds  they  had  come  upon, 
were  even  then  hurrying  up  the  river  side  toward  the 
rendezvous  at  the  Great  Bald  Knoll.  Crepin  had  natu- 
rally enough  fled  toward  the  river  as  being  away  from 
that  concourse  of  troops,  and  now,  as  he  lay  revelling 
in  his  master-stroke  in  so  eluding  them,  his  ears  were 

198 


THE   FATES   AND   CRfrPIN   BRUNE 

assailed  by  the  noise  of  this  body  of  men  approaching 
from  that  very  direction. 

He  leaped  to  his  feet  with  a  curse,  and  stood  a 
moment  hesitating.  To  run  before  them  was  to  meet 
the  others.  To  try  either  way  along  the  river  was 
to  cross  open  ground  where  he  must  be  seen.  They 
were  close  upon  him,  and  he  had  little  time  to  decide. 
With  a  savage  growl,  as  of  a  tracked  beast,  he  dived 
head  foremost  into  a  copse  of  brake,  and  the  drooping 
leaves  closed  over  him. 

Here,  again,  all  would  have  been  well  had  the  Fates 
decreed  that  these  men  should  be  intent  only  on  reaching 
their  appointed  place.  But  it  chanced  that  two  archers 
of  the  guard,  despite  their  long  march,  were  engaged  in 
buffeting  each  other  about  as  they  proceeded,  much  to 
the  gratification  of  their  mates.  It  chanced,  also,  that, 
even  as  they  came  abreast  of  the  copse  of  brake,  one  of 
them,  in  leaping  aside  to  avoid  the  other's  blow,  came 
down  with  both  feet  upon  the  leg  of  the  unlucky  Crepin. 

The  tussle  was  short,  for  the  archers  of  the  con- 
stable's guard  were  no  mean  fellows.  Crepin,  jerked 
to  his  feet,  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  a  score  grin- 
ning faces,  yet  took  little  comfort  from  that  pleasing 
expression  of  countenance. 

"  Saints!  This  is  no  mean  addition  to  our  bag!  If 
I  mistake  me  not,  'tis  the  badge  of  the  mad  wench  this 
knave  wears  in  his  cap,"  cried  one  who  seemed  to  lead 
the  party. 

Crepin,  looking  farther,  now  saw  a  half-dozen 
despairing  wretches  tied  together,  and  even  as  his  eyes 
fell  on  these  other  Companions,  he  was  dragged  toward 
them  and  made  secure  in  like  fashion.  And  now  he  saw 
death  large  before  him  and  whimpered. 

"  A  plague  on  your  whining !  "  roared  the  one  who 
199 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


had  jumped  upon  him.  "  Save  your  breath,  that  you 
may  sing  while  you  dance  on  air.  We  have  a  ditty  that 
methinks  will  serve  your  purpose." 

At  which  the  others  laughed  uproariously ;  and  some 
of  them  prodding  the  prisoners  sharply  with  their  shafts, 
the  party  once  more  took  up  its  march,  bellowing  a  liven- 
ing song,  to  which  their  feet  kept  pace: 

Then  ho,  for  the  Forest  of  Ardennes! 

And  a  curse  on  the  knaves  that  are  free! 

The  bow-strings  are  twanging  and  soon  they'll  be  hanging 

To  rot  on  the  uppermost  tree. 

Ha!  Ha!  On  the  uppermost  tree. 

One  attempt  Crepin  made  to  speak  to  the  archer 
nearest  him,  and  was  rewarded  with  a  blow  across  the 
mouth  that  split  his  lip  against  his  teeth.  After  that  he 
shuffled  along  with  the  rest  quiet  enough. 

As  the  company  came  into  the  lane  before  the  vine- 
grower's  house,  they  came  full  upon  Count  Charles. 
He  was  now  mounted  and  accompanied  by  a  numerous 
staff,  among  whom  was  the  constable,  though  Crepin 
knew  him  not.  His  face  was  black  with  rage. 

"  What  brawlers  are  these  who  set  the  wood  echoing 
with  their  clamour  ?  "  cried  the  count. 

He  paused  suddenly,  and  his  look  brightened  at  sight 
of  the  prisoners,,  while  the  archers  came  to  a  prompt 
salute. 

"  Ah,  methinks  'tis  your  company  of  archers  that  was 
missing  before,  my  lord,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  Count 
de  St.  Pol,  and,  on  the  latter  acquiescing,  spoke  sharply 
to  the  captain  of  archers. 

"  When  an  hour  for  rendezvous  shall  be  set,  it  will 
behoove  you  to  be  more  punctual  in  the  future,  sir. 
Yet  I  see  that  you  have  not  been  idle.  Seven  to  your 

200 


THE  FATES  AND  CREPIN   BRUNE 

net;  that  makes  two-score  and  three  in  all;  good  exam- 
ples that  the  wind  shall  swing  in  the  sight  of  these  fools 
as  an  earnest  of  what  is  to  come.  Away  with  them — yet 
stay;  yonder,  with  the  green  emblem  in  his  cap,  me- 
thinks  that  is  the  token  of  this  Marcelle  the  Mad." 

The  man's  hawk-like  eye  overlooked  nothing. 

"  So  I  believe  it  to  be,  my  lord  count,"  answered 
the  captain.  "  We  took  him  not  with  the  others,  but 
scarce  five-score  paces  yonder,  concealed  in  a  thicket." 

Count  Charles's  eye  lighted  suddenly. 

"  Is  it  so  ?  "  he  said  after  a  pause,  during  which  he 
fixed  a  look  on  Crepin  that  sent  that  worthy's  knees 
knocking  together  in  terror.  Then  he  added  to  the  cap- 
tain :  "  Take  these  others  to  the  top  of  the  Great  Bald 
Knoll  and  hang  them  next  those  you  find  there.  I  would 
not  separate  them  too  long,  these  Companions.  Leave 
this  last  capture  of  yours  here." 

With  that  the  poor  wretches  set  up  a  wild  howling, 
and  grovelled  before  him  for  mercy.  As  well  might 
they  have  appealed  to  the  very  horse  he  bestrode. 

"  Away  with  them !  "  he  said  harshly. 

And  with  that  the  archers  laid  hold  of  them  and 
dragged  them  savagely  to  their  doom,  fighting  and 
screaming  with  such  agony  that  many  a  man  there 
hitched  uneasily  in  his  saddle  and  exchanged  looks  with 
one  near  him. 

Not  a  muscle  of  Count  Charles's  face  moved,  and 
he  sat  his  horse  as  though  he  were  image  and  not  man 
till  the  hubbub  had  subsided  into  a  far-away  moan. 
Then  he  waved  the  rest  back  from  him,  and  beckoned 
the  two  archers  holding  Crepin  to  bring  their  prisoner 
near. 

"  For  you  such  death  as  they  meet  is  too  good,  since 
you  wear  that  emblem !  "  he  said. 

201 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


Crepin  would  have  torn  the  cap  from  his  head  save 
that  the  guards  held  his  hands. 

"  But  before  settling  on  fit  ending  for  you,  I  would 
know  what  business  brought  you  here  this  day?"  went 
on  Count  Charles. 

Crepin  stammered;  he  had  not  had  time  to  concoct 
a  tale. 

"  The — the — only  the  chase  of  a  roebuck,  my  lord ; 
I  swear  it,"  he  said,  and  fell  to  his  knees  ere  the  arch- 
ers could  prevent  him. 

"  Raise  the  fool ! "  said  Count  Charles,  and  the  arch- 
ers jerked  him  to  his  feet  with  small  gentleness. 

How  different  was  this  Count  Charles  from  that  un- 
suspecting man  he  had  tried  to  shoot  down  from  behind. 

"  The  man  lies,  my  lord  count,"  said  one  of  the 
archers,  "  for  when  we  took  him  he  was,  as  he  is  now, 
without  arms." 

Count  Charles  started. 

"  Ha !  I'll  be  sworn  I  could  find  a  bow  that  would 
fit  your  hand,  my  man,  and  that  not  far  from  here," 
he  said  grimly.  "  By  my  faith,  'twas  you  the  Sieur 
Giraud  set  to  do  me  to  death ! " 

"  No ;  no,  my  lord,  I  swear " 

Crepin  broke  off  suddenly.  There  was  small  chance 
now  for  him  in  any  event ;  but  if  he  could  shift  it  all  on 
to  the  Sieur  Giraud's  shoulders,  perchance 

"  My  lord,  I — I  knew  not  who  it  was  the  Sieur 
Giraud  set  me  to  kill;  I  swear  by  all  the  saints!  Tis 
not  for  me  to  deceive  my  lord  Count  de  Charolais.  I 
was  paid  well  for  the  work,  and  had  no  thought  that  it 
concerned  my  lord.  I  am  not  mad  enough  for  that." 

Crepin  was  feeling  his  way  carefully,  and,  Count 
Charles  making  no  move  to  speak  as  he  paused,  con- 
tinued hurriedly: 

202 


THE  FATES   AND   CREPIN   BRUNE 

"  When  I  first  saw  you  come  into  the  path,  and  knew 
it  was  you,  my  lord  count,  or  some  great  personage,  I 
had  been  hired  to  do  for,  I  cursed  the  day  I  had  made 
such  bargain." 

"Very  good;  anything  further?"  asked  Count 
Charles  mockingly.  "  You  cursed,  perchance ;  but  you 
shot,  or  tried  to,  nevertheless." 

''  Because  I  believed  that  I  ne'er  would  have  been 
given  such  work  unless  I  was  to  be  watched,  my  lord, 
and  little  taste  have  I  for  such  hand  as  this  Sieur  Giraud 
possesses.  Somewhere — behind  me,  in  the  trees,  per- 
chance— I  felt  that  his  eye  was  upon  me." 

"  And  there  you  were  right ;  he  was  watching  you 
from  the  house!  "  exclaimed  Count  Charles  impetuously. 

For  an  instant  Crepin  was  struck  dumb  with  sur- 
prise ;  but  he  was  fighting  for  his  life,  and  went  on  with 
scarce  a  trace  of  it  in  his  tone. 

"  I  knew  not,  my  lord ;  but  I  could  have  sworn  he 
would  be  somewhere  near.  I  dared  not  run ;  I  dared  not 
shoot.  There  was  but  one  thing  left  me.  I  hacked  my 
bow-string  nearly  in  two  and  stood  up  so  that  he  might 
see  me  draw  bow.  Yet  the  shaft  ne'er  left  my  hand. 
Then,  my  lord — then  I  ran." 

Count  Charles  looked  at  him  with  piercing  gaze. 
True  enough,  the  bow-string  had  been  nearly  severed  in 
one  spot ;  that  he  had  seen  for  himself,  and  the  tale  of  a 
broken  bow-string  would  go  far  to  palliate  the  man's 
failure.  Not  for  a  moment  did  Count  Charles  think  of 
leniency,  even  if  the  tale  were  true.  The  man  should  die, 
like  all  the  rest  caught  in  these  hills.  Only,  he  was  in- 
terested. 

As  for  Crepin,  the  lie  he  had  put  forward  had  flashed 
upon  him  suddenly.  That  his  bow-string  had  suffered 
some  damage  he  knew  must  be  true,  for  he  had  selected 
14  203 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


it  with  the  utmost  care  and  tested  it  with  great  thorough- 
ness. An  unnoticed  and  jagged  stone,  as  he  had  lain 
upon  his  bow,  might  have  been  responsible,  and  he  had 
snatched  eagerly  at  the  idea  as  one  that  might,  per- 
chance, save  him  from  the  unknown  torture  he  believed 
awaited  him. 

A  short  time  Count  Charles  remained  motionless ; 
then  swung  about  in  the  saddle  and  beckoned  the  Count 
de  St.  Pol  to  approach.  They  spoke  together  for  some 
moments  in  low  tones  so  that  Crepin  caught  no  word  of 
their  talk.  Had  he  not  been  so  preoccupied  with  his  own 
fear  he  might  have  noted  the  sudden  but  momentary 
blanching  of  the  constable's  visage  as  Count  Charles  first 
addressed  him,  and  caught  the  half-apprehensive  look  the 
constable  shot  toward  him.  But,  of  course,  Crepin  had 
eyes  only  for  his  terrible  inquisitor,  and,  moreover, 
knew  not  that  the  other  was  Louis  de  Luxembourg, 
Constable  of  France.  Which,  considering  Crepin's 
desperate  state  of  mind,  perchance,  was  as  well  for  the 
constable. 

At  length  Count  Charles  turned  again  to  Crepin. 

"  I  know  not  how  much  of  your  tale  be  true,  fel- 
low," he  said.  "  Some  of  it  conforms  to  what  I  myself 
observed;  yet,  even  be  it  so,  the  avowal  shall  not  save 
you.  As  soon  would  I  spare  a  venomous  reptile  that  had 
struck  at  me,  as  one  of  these  Companions  of  the  Green 
Tent;  much  less  one  of  that  cursed  mad  woman's  band. 
Yet  you  have  somewhat  appeased  my  curiosity,  and  I 
would  reward  you — •*-" 

"  May  the  blessing  of  all  the  saints — "  began  Crepin 
thankfully,  his  face  lighting  up  quickly. 

" — with  the  same  death  as  the  others,  in  place  of  that 
I  contemplated,"  added  Count  Charles  drily,  and  sig- 
nalled the  archers  to  remove  him. 

204 


THE  FATES  AND  CRlPIN   BRUNE 

The  constable  raised  himself  in  his  stirrups  as  though 
seeking  a  more  comfortable  seat,  and  smiled. 

As  the  archers  took  fresh  hold  of  Crepin  and  started 
to  drag  him  off,  he  shrieked  with  such  terror  that,  in 
disgust,  Count  Charles  rapped  his  pommel  sharply. 

"  Bah !  you've  played  the  bold  rover  of  the  Ardennes 
with  enough  swagger,  I'll  be  sworn ! "  he  sneered. 
"  Show  a  little  of  that  boasted  spirit  when  death  con- 
fronts you." 

"  But  you  would  kill  me  for  what  another  has  done !  " 
bawled  Crepin  shrilly.  "  'Tis  the  Sieur  Giraud  who  laid 
the  plot  against  my  lord  count;  and  I — I,  Crepin  Brune, 
can  deliver  him  into  your  hand — ay,  and  all  the  band  and 
Marcelle  the  Mad,  herself,  if  she  still  lives.  But  spare 
me  and  you  shall  see,  my  lord ! " 

He  struggled  so  desperately  that,  for  a  moment,  he 
shook  off  the  guards  who  held  him  and  stood  with  trem- 
bling hands  outstretched  toward  Count  Charles  and  great 
drops  of  clammy  sweat  upon  his  face.  An  instant  more 
and  the  archers  had  seized  him  again,  roughly;  but 
Count  Charles  stayed  them  with  a  rapid  gesture. 

"  Ha !  That  had  not  occurred  to  me,"  he  cried. 
"  Yet  if  'twere  possible,  willingly  enough  would  I  give 
you  your  wretched  life  in  exchange." 

"  It  is  possible,  my  lord  count,"  began  Crepin ;  but 
the  constable  had  spurred  to  Count  Charles's  side  and  the 
latter  had  turned  to  speak  with  him.  There  was  a  look 
of  much  earnestness  on  the  constable's  face  now  as  he 
talked  rapidly,  and  no  trace  of  the  smile  he  had  worn. 
Evidently,  this  fresh  development  was  anything  but 
pleasing  to  him.  However,  he  seemed  to  make  little  im- 
pression on  the  mind  of  Count  Charles,  for  after  a 
moment  the  latter  shook  his  head  negatively  and  again 
addressed  Crepin. 

205 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  What  you  offer  is  too  seductive  to  be  ignored,"  he 
said  impetuously.  "  You  say  that  you  can  deliver  over 
to  me  the  Sieur  Giraud  and  the  mad  wench  ?  " 

"  I  may  not  place  them  in  my  lord  count's  hand, 
bound  and  fast,"  answered  Crepin  quickly ;  "  but  I  can 
this  very  day  lead  my  lord  count  to  the  camp  of  Mar- 
celle,  scarce  three  leagues  distant  in  the  hills.  It  would 
be  strange  if  my  lord  should  fail  to  lay  hands  on  them 
both." 

"  How  many  numbers  this  band  ? "  asked  Count 
Charles,  after  a  pause. 

"  Three-score  and  eight  when  all  are  in  camp ;  but 
some  are  sure  to  be  in  the  hills." 

"  By  my  faith,  'twould  be  a  fitting  close  to  the  day !  " 
exclaimed  the  count,  half  to  himself.  "  And  if  Mon- 
seigneur  did  not  require  my  presence  at  Namur,  I  would 
be  disposed — but  what  of  that  ?  Three-score  and  eight — 
two-score  of  our  own  archers  should  account  for  these 
boors  with  little  trouble.  Nor  is  it  only  question  of  lay- 
ing hands  on  the  Sieur  Giraud  and  the  woman.  To-day 
have  I  seen  that  other  with  the  Sieur  Giraud,  that  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles.  That  can  only  mean  that  the  Lady 
Agathe  is  in  their  hands  as  well." 

Again  the  constable  spoke  earnestly  to  Count  Charles, 
but  this  time  he  was  waved  aside  quickly. 

"  I  am  disposed  to  look  on  your  offer  with  favour," 
he  said  sharply  to  Crepin.  "  You  shall  have  your  life  if 
you  lead  my  men  straight  to  the  camp  of  Marcelle." 

He  turned  and  called  to  one  of  his  staff,  who  spurred 
forward.  It  was  Captain  Chaubran. 

"  Collect  two-score  of  the  archers  of  my  guard — they 
will  be  returning  from  their  pursuit  now — and  follow 
where  this  man  shall  lead  you.  Let  him  be  roped  to  two 
of  our  men  that  he  may  try  no  tricks.  You  will  do  best 

206 


THE   FATES  AND   CREPIN   BRUNE 

to  wait  till  dark  before  falling  upon  them,  but  when  you 
do  so,  remember,  I  want  no  prisoners.  The  Lady  Agathe, 
I  have  reason  to  believe,  has  been  taken  by  this  band. 
It  will  be  your  task  to  release  her  and  escort  her  to 
Namur.  I  except  the  Sieur  Giraud  d'Orson  and  the  mad 
woman  from  what  I  said  regarding  prisoners.  Bring 
them  to  me  dead  if  need  be;  but  your  reward  shall,  be 
doubled  if  they  be  living.  I  would  settle  their  lot  myself. 
If  this  man  leads  you  straight,  set  him  free  when  you 
come  to  the  camp.  Go !  " 

Chaubran  saluted  and,  wheeling  about,  rode  off  to 
gather  his  force.  Count  Charles  turned  upon  the  arch- 
ers who  held  Crepin. 

"  Your  lives  shall  answer  for  that  fellow  till  you  turn 
him  over  to  my  guard,"  he  said  shortly,  then  to  the 
others,  "  And  now,  my  lords,  to  assemble  your  men ;  and 
so  to  Namur." 

A  moment  the  wood  echoed  with  the  jingle  of  spurs 
and  the  clash  of  armour.  Then  Crepin  found  himself 
alone  with  his  guards,  who  now  prudently  set  about 
binding  him  hand  and  foot,  but  Crepin  resisted*  no  longer. 
Had  he  been  a  godly  man  he  would  have  poured  forth 
his  thanks  to  God  for  such  escape.  Being  what  he  was, 
he  gloried  in  his  own  acumen ;  cursed  weakly  as  the  ropes 
cut  his  flesh;  then  waited  with  his  head  sunk  upon  his 
breast.  After  all,  the  Fates  had  been  kind. 

On  the  Great  Bald  Knoll  two-score  and  two  other 
heads  nodded  as  though  in  sympathy.  It  is  doubtful  if 
Crepin  had  now  a  thought  for  those  senseless  shapes. 


207 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE    STAMP    OF    MORET    THE    ARMOURER 

WHETHER  the  Sieur  Giraud  and  Monsieur 
Vignolles  would  have  set  forth  hot-foot  for 
Dinant  on  learning  of  the  Lady  Agathe's 
departure  thither  is  of  small  moment,  since 
they  were  given  no  option  in  the  matter.  The  proba- 
bility is  that  they  would  have  done  so  with  never  a 
second  thought,  for  both  now  held  this  band  of  Com- 
panions in  greater  abhorrence  than  ever,  and  Monsieur 
Vignolles,  now  that  he  had  become  aware  of  all  the  Sieur 
Giraud  had  suffered,  would  have  followed  him  blindly. 

However,  even  as  the  Sieur  Giraud  spoke  so  de- 
cidedly, Tite  came  running  through  the  wood  toward 
them.  He  stopped  short  as  he  caught  sight  of  them,  and 
cried : 

"  Marcelle !    Where  is  Marcelle  ?  " 

Neither  made  any  reply,  but  he  saw  that  they  knew 
not. 

"  The  devil,  if  ever  she  should  be  here,  'tis  now ! 
Those  rogues  have  got  whatever  they've  been  waiting 
for  and  they're  moving  up  the  valley  fast.  Andre  and 
a  dozen  others  all  bring  the  same  report,  and  they'll  be 
on  us  within  the  half  of  an  hour." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Let  them  come ;  it  matters  little  to  us,"  he  said 
coldly.  "  To  say  the  truth,  Tite,  we  want  no  more  to  do 
with  any  of  your  affairs  here.  While  I  have  been  with 

208 


THE  STAMP  OF   MORET  THE  ARMOURER 

you  I  have  paid  my  way,  methinks,  in  as  hard  work  as 
any  of  the  rest ;  but  that  is  over." 

Tite  looked  hard  at  them. 

"  And  are  you  of  the  same  mind  ?  "  he  asked  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles.  "  By  my  faith,  if  so,  you  are  as  shifting 
as  a  wench,  for  not  long  ago  you  were  bawling  for  a  fight 
like  any  bravo." 

"  Ay,  and  so  I  would  fight  now  were  there  aught  to 
lend  inducement,"  was  the  answer ;  "  but  since  the  Lady 
Agathe  has  gone,  consume  me  if  I'll  risk  my  life  for  the 
mere  pleasure  of  your  company !  " 

"  The  Lady  Agathe  gone !  "  exclaimed  Tite. 

"  Ay ;  since  Marcelle  was  good  enough  to  free  her 
she  has  shaken  this  cursed  spot  and  chosen  a  safer  one 
in  Dinant,  whither  we  follow  her,"  replied  the  Sieur 
Giraud,  and,  indeed,  he  did  think  that  the  Lady  Agathe 
had  gone  of  her  own  will. 

"  Dinant !  So  'tis  a  woman's  kirtle  that  would  per- 
suade you  hence  when  you  are  most  needed !  "  growled 
the  old  man.  "  Oh,  I  know  what  you  would  say — what 
you  have  said — you  two  are  not  of  us ;  it  matters  naught 
to  you  if  we  be  cut  up  by  these  fiends  from  over  the  river. 
I  know  all  that ;  but,  by  St.  Hubert,  ne'er  did  I  think  to 
see  either  of  you  run  from  a  fight!  But  go — go!  Let 
me  not  keep  you;  only  little  of  Dinant  will  you  see  this 
night." 

"And  why?" 

They  asked  it  together. 

"  Because  by  now  those  others  hold  the  mouth  of  the 
valley  yonder,"  cried  Tite.  "  Try  that  way  and  you'll 
have  reason  drilled  into  you  with  a  cloth-yard  shaft." 

"  Bah !  then  we'll  go  round  them  by  the  ridges,  old 
Whitehead !  "  said  Monsieur  Vignolles. 

"  To  find  the  gates  of  Dinant  shut  by  the  time  you 
209 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


come  before  them,  fool,"  answered  Tite  shortly.  "  And 
mark  you,  you  can  count  on  one  hand,  with  two  fingers 
to  spare,  those  to  whom  those  gates  will  be  opened  after 
nightfall." 

There  was  truth  in  what  he  said;  the  Sieur  Giraud 
had  not  been  with  this  band  so  long  without  knowing 
that  for  himself.  Yet  in  his  haste  he  had  not  thought  of 
it  before.  The  three  stood  in  silence;  but  at  length  the 
Sieur  Giraud  spoke  quietly. 

"  Since  'tis  forced  upon  us,  we  will  stay."  And  then 
suddenly  he  drew  himself  up.  "  And  since  we  stay  we 
will  make  something  of  it.  By  all  the  saints,  stand  mum- 
bling there  no  longer,  old  man ;  but  get  you  gone  to  as- 
semble the  men!  Let  one  of  them  start  the  smudge 
signal  to  those  still  in  the  hills ;  and  do  you  bring  every 
living  being  that  can  bear  a  bow  to  the  foot  of  the  hill 
yonder,  where  we  left  your  precious  horses.  We'll  wait 
not  for  their  attack,  but  meet  these  curs  on  their  way. 
So  move  your  stiff  old  legs  as  ne'er  they  moved 
before!" 

This  was  the  man  that  Tite  knew,  and  instead  of 
taking  offence  at  the  words,  he  chuckled  softly  and 
made  off. 

As  the  others  departed  toward  their  quarters,  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles  shot  a  quizzical  look  at  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  Spite  of  the  devil,  I  am  not  so  grieved  at  the  out- 
come. It's  to  be  bow  and  shaft,  then?"  he  said. 

"  Ay ;  and  cut  and  thrust  as  well,  this  time,  methinks, 
for  'twill  come  to  close  quarters,"  answered  the  Sieur 
Giraud ;  and  added,  "  for  which  the  saints  be  praised,  for 
I,  too,  am  in  fit  mood  for  it,  monsieur !  " 

And,  in  truth,  the  lust  of  combat  was  strong  upon 
him.  There  is  naught  that  will  turn  man  into  such  en- 
raged beast,  save  being  tricked  as  he  had  been  that  day. 

210 


THE   STAMP  OF  MORET   THE   ARMOURER 

As  they  hurried  through  the  wood  a  great  column  of 
black  smoke  arose  from  behind  the  camp.  Tite  had  lost 
no  time  in  setting  the  signal.  Everywhere  men  were  now 
flitting  through  the  trees,  scattering  in  all  directions  to 
their  burrows  to  augment  their  supplies  of  shafts,  or 
bend  a  fresh  string  to  their  bows.  Many  of  them  also 
armed  themselves  with  axes  or  the  hammers  which,  made 
for  the  peaceful  hammering  of  brass,  now  with  length- 
ened handle  became  formidable  weapons.  Here  and 
there  one  might  be  seen  shouldering  a  pike,  some  relic 
of  former  strife  about  the  walls  of  Bouvignes.  Alto- 
gether, they  were  a  nondescript  rabble  and  scarce  likely 
to  dispute  the  way  with  any  trained  force  they  might  en- 
counter, though  they  would  give  good  enough  account 
of  themselves  against  these  other  outlaws  they  went  to 
meet. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  and  Monsieur  Vignolles  hastened 
to  Tite's  den,  took  therefrom  the  saddles  and  harness, 
and,  running  down  the  hill,  quickly  had  them  in  place  on 
the  horses.  That  done,  they  mounted,  and  riding  in  a 
circuit  round  the  hill  ascended  it  from  the  side  farthest 
from  the  approaching  foe.  In  a  spot  completely  hedged 
in  with  undergrowth  and  half-way  up  the  slope  they 
secured  the  beasts  to  trees.  Here,  at  least,  they  would  be 
safe  from  stray  shots,  and  both  these  men  were  trained 
to  think  of  their  mounts  before  themselves.  As  for  Tite, 
he  could  not  have  sat  a  saddle  had  his  life  depended  upon 
doing  it,  and  they  gave  him  no  thought.  Then  they 
separated,  and,  hastening  to  their  respective  quarters, 
arrayed  themselves  for  the  fray. 

When  they  again  met  at  the  base  of  the  hill,  both 
wore  coats  of  mail  beneath  their  tunics  and  had  resumed 
their  swords.  These  the  Sieur  Giraud  had  never  been 
deprived  of,  but  hitherto  he  had  had  no  occasion  for  their 

211 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


use.    Long  bows  and  belts  full  of  shafts  completed  their 
equipment. 

Already  they  found  some  two-score  of  the  band  as- 
sembled, and  not  one  of  these  was  there  who  looked  not 
to  the  Sieur  Giraud  for  direction.  Among  the  motley 
gathering  the  two  women,  Ulrique  Cadet  and  Celie  Le- 
spere,  with  some  others,  moved  about  scattering  coarse 
gibes  in  their  wakes,  but  heartening  the  men  by  their  very 
dare-devil  manner.  Each  bore  a  bow  with  a  practised 
hand,  and  the  shafts  beneath  their  arms  seemed  scarcely 
out  of  place.  They  were  more  men  than  women.  Mar- 
celle  appeared  not  among  them. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  quickly  made  his  arrangements.  A 
half-score  under  Andre  he  sent  hurrying  down  the  valley 
to  meet  the  enemy.  Tite,  with  a  score  more,  he  threw 
along  the  sides  of  the  ravine  to  catch  them  in  flank  when 
Andre  and  his  men  should  be  forced  back ;  and  the  main 
body  he  posted  behind  trees  in  the  line  the  enemy  must 
take  in  approaching  the  camp.  That  done,  he  sat  down 
and  waited,  conversing  in  low  tones  with  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles. 

As  they  so  sat,  there  was  a  sharp  rustle  in  the  brush 
behind  them,  and  they  spun  round  to  see  Marcelle  stand- 
ing there,  her  face  and  dress  smeared  with  dirt  and  her 
hair  tumbling  in  confusion  about  her  ears.  Neither  had 
heard  her  approach,  and  she  seemed  to  have  dropped 
upon  them  from  the  branches  above. 

"  I — I  was  in  the  wood — far  away — and  knew  naught 
of  this  till  I  saw  the  smoke,"  she  gasped.  :f  They  are 
close  upon  us ;  I  saw  some  of  them  as  I  came  along  the 
ridge  yonder." 

She  pointed  upward  with  her  bow,  and  both  men 
noted  that,  despite  her  excitement,  her  hand  was  steady 
enough. 

212 


THE   STAMP   OF  MORET   THE   ARMOURER 

"  Then  you  will  hear  from  Andre  ere  long,"  said  the 
Sieur  Giraud  drily. 

"  The  Lady  Agathe — has — has  gone  to  Dinant.  She 
will  be  safe  whatever  happens,"  stammered  Marcelle, 
looking  down  the  valley. 

"  I  know ;  I  am  glad,"  he  answered,  and  then  coldly 
and  without  a  glance  in  her  direction,  "  It  may  hearten 
the  men  if  you  show  yourself  among  them." 

He  pointed  toward  the  figures  half-hidden  among  the 
trees,  and  it  was  too  plain  a  dismissal  to  be  passed  over. 
It  had  come  to  this,  then:  that  she,  the  leader  of  this 
band,  not  only  should  not  lead  it,  but  even  in  the  face  of 
the  enemy  should  suffer  such  affront.  Others  had  tried 
such  tactics  to  their  cost,  and  was  this  man  then  to  dic- 
tate to  her  with  impunity?  No — she  would — yes,  she 
would ;  but  not  this  time. 

With  the  meekness  of  a  saint,  yet  with  the  hot  blood 
high  in  her  cheeks,  she  turned  and  walked  toward  the 
others. 

Monsieur  Vignolles's  gaze  had  never  left  her  face, 
and  now  he  pursed  his  lips  in  wonderment.  In  that  brief 
moment  his  eyes  had  been  opened  largely;  but  he  was 
ageing  rapidly,  and  with  age  was  growing  the  impression 
that  the  affairs  of  Monsieur  Vignolles  were  all  that  he 
could  swing  comfortably.  Moreover,  the  next  moment 
there  were  other  things  to  claim  his  attention,  for  even 
as  he  caught  the  subdued  hum  of  welcome  with  which 
the  band  greeted  Marcelle,  a  spent  arrow  flicked  through 
the  trees  and  fell  between  him  and  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

Both  hastened  to  take  cover,  and  in  a  moment  more 
Andre  and  his  men  came  falling  back  doggedly  on  the 
main  force — not  all  of  them  who  had  set  forth  down  the 
valley,  in  truth,  for  three  of  their  number  had  met  winged 
death  yonder. 

213 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


But  even  as  the  shafts  fell  thicker  and  thicker  about 
them,  there  came  a  sudden  pause  in  the  swift  advance  of 
the  foe.  Tite  had  waited  until  they  were  well  between 
his  two  forces,  and  now,  from  both  sides  of  the  ravine 
at  only  forty  paces  range,  let  fly  such  a  cloud  of  arrows 
as  wellnigh  to  throw  them  into  a  panic.  Till  that  mo- 
ment the  fight  had  gone  on  in  a  strange,  weird  silence, 
neither  side  having  any  mind  to  expose  its  position ;  but 
now  sharp  cries  and  groans  came  from  the  wood  as  some 
well-directed  shaft  found  its  mark.  So  near  was  the 
enemy  now  that  their  shadowy  figures  could  be  seen  as 
they  dodged  from  tree  to  tree  in  their  efforts  to  find 
shelter  against  this  new  attack  upon  their  flanks. 

"  Ha !  For  a  man  of  trade,  old  Whitehead  has  much 
to  commend  him !  "  said  Monsieur  Vignolles.  "  They'll 
not  stand  the  tune  he  is  playing  them  for  long." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  did  not  answer.  His  great  yew 
bow  was  bent  till  his  right  hand  grazed  his  ear,  and  the 
next  moment  the  string  slapped  smartly  against  his 
buckskin  arm-guard.  Three-score  paces  distant  a  prowl- 
ing figure  leaped  with  a  wild  cry  into  the  air  and  came 
heavily  to  earth,  a  shaft  well  through  his  middle. 

"  By  my  faith,  an  Englishman  himself  could  have 
done  no  better,"  said  Monsieur  Vignolles  drily,  and 
peered  forth  from  behind  his  tree  for  similar  opportunity. 

"  You  spoke  naught  but  the  truth  in  saying  they 
would  not  stand  Tite's  offering  long !  "  exclaimed  the 
other,  fitting  a  fresh  horned  notch  to  his  string.  "  They 
are  breaking  now.  Oh,  for  a  little  more  light,  and  few 
of  these  curs  would  ever  leave  this  ravine ! " 

He  sprang  into  the  open,  heedless  of  the  random 
shafts  that  flew  about  him. 

"  And  now,  you  knaves,  out  from  your  cover  and  at 
them!  "  he  roared,  and,  followed  by  Monsieur  Vignolles, 

214 


THE  STAMP  OF   MORET  THE  ARMOURER 

rushed  forward,  pausing  to  shoot  whenever  a  fair  mark 
showed  itself. 

The  band  was  quick  to  take  up  the  cry  and  followed 
close  upon  his  heels. 

And  now  a  veritable  pandemonium  raged  in  the 
woods  where  these  outlaws  fought.  The  hoarse,  mad 
curses  of  pursuer  and  pursued ;  the  exulting  cries  of 
savagery  as  some  well-sped  arrow  laid  an  adversary  low ; 
the  gasping  moans  of  the  stricken ;  all  punctuated  jerkily 
with  the  sharp  twang  of  bow-string  or  the  heavy  thud 
of  point  against  tree,  served  for  the  time  to  render  the 
gulch  a  veritable  hell.  Yet,  with  it  all,  the  actual  loss  of 
life  was  small  as  compared  to  the  number  engaged,  for 
these  vagabonds  were  far  from  being  skilled  bowmen, 
and,  in  the  turmoil,  the  random  shaft  found  its  victim 
nearly  as  often  as  the  aimed  one. 

One  arrow  point  did  the  Sieur  Giraud  receive  full  on 
the  chest,  but  it  barely  penetrated  his  mail.  Monsieur 
Vignolles,  less  fortunate,  was  struck  a  grazing  blow  on 
the  head,  the  shaft  speeding  on  with  his  cap  and  leaving 
behind  it  a  jagged  wound  from  which  the  blood  poured 
freely  over  his  face.  But  the  enemy  had  had  more  than 
enough,  and  waited  not  to  come  to  close  quarters  with 
their  assailants.  A  round  dozen  of  their  men  were  on 
the  ground,  and  of  those  afoot,  many  had  been  hit.  With 
one  accord  they  fled  down  the  gulch,  and  the  air  was  full 
of  arrows  behind  them,  and  close  after  followed  the  Sieur 
Giraud  and  his  shouting  company.  For  this  time  he 
meant  to  deal  them  such  blow  as  they  should  never  re- 
cover from,  and  the  fever  of  killing  was  full  upon  him. 

As  he  plunged  forward  he  became  conscious  of  a 
small  figure  running  beside  him.  It  was  Marcelle — 
Marcelle  as  he  had  first  seen  her,  pitiless,  untamed,  and 
with  the  fierce  joy  of  combat  in  her  eyes.  Tite,  too,  now 

215 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


fell  in  with  them,  moving  swiftly  despite  his  years,  and 
with  him  came  Poncet  and  Moise,  who,  returning  from 
Dinant,  had  found  the  fight  in  full  fling. 

And  then  ahead  of  them  they  saw  a  wild  confusion 
among  those  they  hunted ;  and  an  instant  later,  with  mad 
shouting  these  had  broken  the  line  of  their  flight  and  fled 
up  the  sides  of  the  gorge.  Darkness  was  now  almost  full 
upon  the  wood,  and  they  melted  into  the  heavy  shadows 
like  so  many  phantom  shapes. 

Ere  the  Sieur  Giraud  and  the  others  had  time  to 
fathom  this  sudden  move,  there  rose  up  before  them,  as 
from  the  ground,  a  blurred  mass.  A  moment  later  a  vol- 
ley of  shafts  seemed  fairly  to  rend  them  asunder.  The 
Sieur  Giraud  felt  a  sharp  sting  in  the  shoulder  and  the 
warm  blood  trickling  down  beneath  his  armpit;  Moise 
flung  up  his  hands  and  sunk  with  a  great  sigh,  first  to  his 
knees  and  then  prone  upon  his  face ;  and  all  about  groans 
and  oaths  told  of  others  struck. 

"  Ambushed,  by  all  the  saints,  and  well  have  they  led 
us  into  the  trap ! "  cried  Monsieur  Vignolles,  and  slipped 
behind  a  tree. 

"  Ay ;  and  they  have  chosen  their  time  well,"  replied 
the  Sieur  Giraud  bitterly.  "  Scarce  two  shafts  apiece 
have  we  left." 

And,  in  truth,  they  had  not  been  sparing  of  missiles, 
deeming  them  of  small  use  if  they  came  to  close  quarters. 

"  So  be  it !  "  replied  Monsieur  Vignolles.  "  What  we 
have  we  will  send  where  they  will  be  appreciated."  And 
with  that  he  let  fly  in  the  direction  of  the  approaching 
company. 

But  they  came  on  steadily,  seeming  to  care  little  for 
the  ill-directed  shafts  sent  at  them,  and,  in  truth,  now  it 
was  too  dark  for  the  most  expert  bowman  to  hold  with 
certainty.  Their  first  volley  had  been  so  terribly  effective 

216 


THE   STAMP   OF   MORET  THE   ARMOURER 

only  because  it  had  been  discharged  into  the  rushing  mass 
of  men  whom  they  met. 

"  We  must  fall  back  toward  the  camp,"  said  the  Sieur 
Giraud  in  a  moment,  for  now  it  was  his  own  followers 
who  were  threatened  with  panic.  Nearly  a  score  of  their 
number  laid  low  at  one  volley  had  shaken  them. 

As  he  spoke  he  felt  a  touch  on  the  arm  and  turned  to 
find  Marcelle  standing  beside  him. 

"  Look ! "  she  cried,  holding  an  arrow  forth  for  his 
inspection.  "  Ne'er  was  such  shaft  made  in  the  Forest 
of  Ardennes." 

He  took  it  from  her  quickly  and  passed  it  through  his 
fingers  from  goose-feathered  butt  to  brazed  and  steeled 
head.  Then  he  gave  a  sharp  cry  and,  thoughtless  of  the 
danger  of  exposing  himself,  leaned  forward  from  the 
tree's  shadow  and  strained  his  gaze  upon  the  bit  of  metal. 
Yes ;  there  it  was,  the  mark  that  his  fingers  had  felt — 
two  crossed  arrows  within  a  shield  and  the  letter  M  be- 
neath. Even  in  the  gathering  gloom  he  could  make  it 
out  clearly  enough. 

"  It  glanced  against  me  from  yonder  tree,  else  would 
I  have  noted  it  not,"  said  Marcelle.  "  Know  you  then 
whom  these  be  who  now  meet  us  ? " 

"  Ay,  and  think  not  we  have  to  deal  longer  with  any 
vagabond  band,"  answered  the  Sieur  Giraud,  while  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles  leaped  to  his  side  at  the  words.  "  The 
stamp  on  this  arrow-head  is  that  of  old  Moret,  armourer 
to  the  Count  de  Charolais's  archers  of  the  guard.  By 
my  faith,  methought  such  discharge  wondrous  for  these 
rogues ! " 

He  turned  quickly  and  passed  the  word  for  falling 
back  upon  the  camp. 

"  The  archers  of  the  guard !  May  the  saints  pre- 
serve me,  for  I  bent  bow  against  them !  "  muttered  Mon- 

217 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


sieur  Vignolles,  as  they  silently  picked  their  way  from 
cover  to  cover.  "  Yet  they  will  hang  us  higher  than  any 
of  these  thieves  if  they  lay  hands  on  us.  What  go  you 
to  do,  Sieur  Giraud  ?  " 

"  Get  to  the  horses  and  make  off  if  we  may,"  was  the 
answer.  "  If  not — we  shall  know  how  to  die,  Monsieur 
Vignolles." 

The  archers,  proceeding  cautiously  at  first,  now  find- 
ing no  foe  before  them,  quickened  their  pace  and  forced 
the  Companions  to  do  likewise.  Occasionally  they  sent 
an  arrow  whirring  through  the  darkness  after  them ;  but 
for  the  most  part  they  had  given  over  the  use  of  the  bow, 
and  depended  now  on  the  two-handed  swords  they  wore 
when  they  should  come  up  with  their  quarry. 

Marcelle  hung  closely  between  the  Sieur  Giraud  and 
Monsieur  Vignolles  as  they  ran. 

"  Poncet  and  another  have  gone  ahead  to  fetch  more 
arrows,"  she  cried  breathlessly.  "  We  shall  beat  them  off 
once  we  come  to  the  hill." 

"  Speak  for  yourself  and  the  others,"  answered  the 
Sieur  Giraud  coldly. 

"  But  you — you  will  help — you  must  help  now ;  you 
and  Monsieur  Vignolles." 

"  Neither  he  nor  I  will  draw  bow  or  sword  against 
the  Count  de  Charolais,"  he  answered,  and  wondered 
why  it  was  the  light  seemed  now  to  be  growing  stronger 
and  why  he  could  catch  her  expression  of  amazement. 

"And  what,  then,  intend  you?"  she  asked. 

"  To  get  as  far  as  may  be  from  this  devil's  abode, 
and  spend  the  rest  of  our  days  in  cursing  the  hour  that 
e'er  saw  us  come  here !  "  put  in  Monsieur  Vignolles. 
"  As  for  myself,  I  am  of  one  mind  with  the  Sieur  Giraud. 
We  will  not  fight  against  the  Count  de  Charolais." 

"  They  will  hang  you,"  she  gasped. 
218 


THE   STAMP  OF   MORET  THE   ARMOURER 

"  They  have  not  caught  us  as  yet,  and  if  they  do " 

"Fire!" 

The  word  burst  from  the  Sieur  Giraud,  and  he 
stretched  his  hand  upward  toward  the  hill,  conscious  at 
the  same  time  of  a  stiffening  of  his  shoulder  where  he 
had  been  hit. 

Sure  enough ;  far  on  the  summit  was  a  blaze  rapidly 
swelling  in  volume.  Some  sparks  from  the  smudge- 
signal  Tite  had  set  had  been  wafted  into  the  under- 
growth, and  this,  dryer  than  any  tinder  from  the  sum- 
mer's sun,  had  sprung  alight  instantly.  Now  that  whole 
part  of  the  forest  was  a  roaring  mass  of  flame,  and  its 
angry  crackle  carried  even  to  their  ears.  This,  then,  ex- 
plained the  growing  light  the  Sieur  Giraud  had  noticed. 

A  great  cheer  broke  from  those  behind  them.  Here 
was  the  very  light  that  would  render  archery  of  some 
avail.  As  the  light  flared  more  and  more  strongly,  cast- 
ing great  black  and  distorted  shadows  through  the  trees, 
again  the  rain  of  shafts  came  hurtling  among  the  Com- 
panions. Ever  and  anon  one  fell  to  rise  no  more,  but 
the  rest  pressed  on,  a  disorganised,  terror-stricken  rabble 
with  never  a  thought  for  the  fallen. 

At  last  they  came  to  the  base  of  the  hill,  and  here 
Poncet  awaited  them  with  a  great  bundle  of  arrows. 
Yet  they  would  have  torn  past  him  in  their  flight  had 
not  Marcelle  sprang  upon  a  rock  and  madly  called  upon 
them  to  stand.  She  stood  in  full  light  and  a  dozen 
arrows  sung  round  her,  yet  she  passed  unscathed,  and 
her  very  example  served  to  hearten  them.  With  loud 
curses  they  fell  upon  the  shafts  and  took  up  their  old 
places  behind  the  trees.  But  they  had  lost  too  many; 
the  real  fighting  spirit  was  gone  from  the  band  and  they 
drew  bow  in  faint-hearted  fashion,  and  ever  with  an  eye 
to  the  rear. 

15  219 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


Though  but  one  thing  was  uppermost  in  the  mind  of 
the  Sieur  Giraud — the  fear  that  the  horses  would  be 
stampeded  by  the  fire — he  found  himself  held  a  moment 
by  the  gruesome  picture.  And  of  a  sudden,  as  he  tarried 
there,  the  forest  rang  with  the  wild  swinging  chorus  of 
the  archers: 

Then  ho,  for  the  Forest  of  Ardennes! 

And  a  curse  on  the  knaves  that  are  free! 

The  bow-strings  are  twanging  and  soon  they'll  be  hanging 

To  rot  on  the  uppermost  tree. 

Ha!  Ha!  On  the  uppermost  tree. 

As  they  roared  forth  the  last  line  they  rushed  from 
their  cover,  casting  aside  their  bows  and  drawing  their 
two-handed  swords,  their  blades  flashing  fire  in  the  red 
glare.  Two  of  them  pitched  forward,  one  by  Tite's 
hand,  and  had  the  rest  of  the  Companions  held  as  firmly, 
the  archers,  despite  their  contempt  for  their  adversaries, 
must  have  paid  heavily  for  their  temerity.  But  the 
menace  of  death  was  before  them  in  that  gleaming  steel 
and  they  turned  and  fled  up  the  hill  with  the  archers  in 
full  cry  after  them.  And  God  help  those  who  stum- 
bled or  were  overtaken,  for  the  licking  blades  knew  no 
pity! 

The  Sieur  Giraud  and  Monsieur  Vignolles  had 
pressed  forward  a  little  into  the  wood  and  the  seething 
torrent  swept  past,  leaving  them  apparently  unnoticed. 

Marcelle  had  disappeared,  borne  away  somewhere  on 
the  flood. 

"  Come,  monsieur ;  now  for  the  horses !  "  exclaimed 
the  Sieur  Giraud,  and  with  that  the  two  set  forth  up  the 
gorge  away  from  the  shouting,  maddened  horde. 

And  now  they  ran,  with  all  the  speed  they  might  sum- 
mon, obliquely  up  the  hill  toward  where  they  had  left 

220 


THE   STAMP   OF   MORET   THE   ARMOURER 

the  beasts.  But  as  they  panted  onward  their  hearts  grew 
heavy  with  the  doubt  that  is  almost  certainty,  for  the 
crackling  of  the  burning  wood  seemed  very  near  and  the 
air  was  full  of  pitchy  smoke  that  came  ever  thicker  and 
more  chokingly. 

Their  fears  were  not  ungrounded,  for,  even  as  they 
came  breathless  upon  the  spot,  a  great,  trampled  gap 
in  the  hedge  of  brush  told  where  the  terrified  brutes  had 
passed  through.  Within  the  circle,  from  one  tree,  hung 
the  parted  end  of  a  rein,  and  from  another  the  entire 
bridle  which  one  of  the  beasts  had  torn  entire  from  his 
head. 

Ere  either  might  speak  the  brush  parted  suddenly  and 
Marcelle  came  upon  them.  Tears  streamed  from  her 
eyes,  and  she  threw  herself  prostrate  before  them,  sob- 
bing aloud. 

"  Oh,  God  forbid  that  e'er  again  I  should  see  such 
sights !  "  she  cried.  "  Those  with  whom  I  have  lived, 
talked,  ay,  jested,  to  see  them  butchered  like  so  many 
fowls  for  the  table!  And  Ulrique  Cadet — a  woman — 
not  even  her  would  they  spare —  Ah !  " 

She  shuddered  and  seemed  trying  to  repel  something 
from  before  her  eyes. 

"  You  knew  the  horses  were  here  ?  "  cried  the  Sieur 
Giraud.  "  You  came  to " 

"  Ay,  I  knew  they  were  here  and  that  it  could  only 
have  been  you  who  had  such  forethought,"  she  broke  in. 
"  I  saw  them  as  I  entered  to  join  you  below,  before  the 
fight  commenced." 

"  Entered  ?  Entered  what  ?  "  asked  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles ;  but  before  she  might  answer  a  heavy  step  came 
crashing  through  the  thicket,  and  a  burly  form  burst 
hurriedly  into  their  midst. 

It  was  none  other  than  Captain  Chaubran. 

221 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  In  the  name  of  Monseigneur  the  Duke  of  Burgundy, 
I  call  upon  you  to  yield,  Sieur  Giraud  d'Orson,  and  you, 
Monsieur  Vignolles ! "  he  cried,  and  raised  his  sword  to 
give  emphasis  to  his  words. 

Marcelle  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  he  started,  for  he 
had  not  noticed  her  before. 

"  Yield  not  to  this  man ! "  she  muttered  to  the  Sieur 
Giraud.  "  I  can  save  you ;  I  swear  it !  " 

"  And  the  mad  wench  of  the  Ardennes !  "  cried  Chau- 
bran.  "  By  my  faith,  my  bag  fattens.  The  devil's  chase 
did  you  two  lead  me  up  the  hill ;  but  methought  to  recog- 
nise you,  and  now  I  ani  more  than  repaid." 

He  gave  a  loud  halloo  as  he  ended,  and  it  was  an- 
swered by  many  voices  from  the  direction  of  the  camp. 

"  Would  you  stand  there  to  be  taken  thus  ?  "  cried 
Marcelle  in  a  low  tone.  "  I  tell  you  I  will  save  you,  even 
as  you  once  did  me !  " 

But  neither  of  these  men  had  any  view  to  being  so 
seized.  They  would  not  bear  arms  against  the  Count 
de  Charolais,  it  was  true;  but  this  affair  with  Captain 
Chaubran  came  too  near  being  a  personal  matter  to  give 
them  any  scruples.  By  their  capture  and  certain  death 
would  he  gain  advancement  and  reward.  Yet  the  an- 
swering cries  had  warned  them  that  there  was  no  time 
for  sword-play  and  its  uncertainties. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  unslung  his  sword-belt,  and, 
striding  to  Chaubran,  dropped  the  weapon  at  his  feet. 

"  I  have  seen  too  well  to-day  what  you  can  do,  cap- 
tain," he  said  quietly. 

Marcelle  moaned  and  Monsieur  Vignolles  cursed 
aloud,  but  Chaubran  smiled  patronisingly. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  that  the  hills  have  not  robbed  you 
of  common-sense,  Sieur  Giraud,"  he  said.  "  Such  task 
as  this  is  no  pleasant  one  for  me,  I  assure  you,  for  once 

222 


THE   STAMP   OF   MORET   THE   ARMOURER 

a  comrade,  always  a  comrade,  say  I.  But  we  may  not 
choose  our  own  work." 

He  lowered  his  point  and  half  bowed. 

"  Monsieur  Vignolles  will  see  the  same  advantage  in 
yielding,  I  make  no " 

The  hands  of  the  Sieur  Giraud  closed  about  his 
throat  with  the  grip  of  a  vice,  and  the  rest  of  his  speech 
became  a  gurgling  sigh.  A  few  moments  he  struggled ; 
then,  with  a  last  twitch  of  the  limbs,  lay  quite  still. 
Seizing  him  by  feet  and  head,  the  two  men  threw  him 
heavily  into  the  brush,  wherein  he  sunk  from  view. 

The  shouting  of  those  who  came  in  answer  to  Chau- 
bran's  halloo  was  now  very  near.  Marcelle  plucked  the 
two  by  their  sleeves. 

"  Come ! "  she  said,  and  they  followed  her  quickly, 
the  Sieur  Giraud  only  pausing  to  recover  his  sword. 

At  the  far  side  of  the  little  compound  where  the 
horses  had  been  left  she  parted  the  undergrowth  very 
gently,  and,  on  her  lowering  her  foot,  they  heard  the 
soft  splash  of  water. 

"  A  stream !  "  exclaimed  Monsieur  Vignolles. 

"  No ;  a  spring,"  she  replied.  "  Follow  me,"  and 
with  that  she  disappeared  from  view,  and  the  brush 
closed  over  where  she  had  stood. 

They  made  haste  to  comply,  both  going  over  ankle 
in  the  cold  water  of  the  spring,  and  then,  on  feeling  for 
their  next  footing,  they  understood  where  they  were,  for 
the  way  descended  precipitously.  They  were  feeling 
their  way  along  a  great  gash  that  nature  had  at  one 
time  or  another  torn  in  the  hillside.  Under  their  feet 
trickled  the  water  from  the  fountain-head  above,  and  a 
rank  underbrush,  sure  of  a  never-ending  supply  of  drink, 
had  sprung  up  along  this  tiny  stream.  As  they  crawled 
along  in  the  wake  of  Marcelle  they  were  as  completely 

223 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


shut  in  as  though  the  hand  of  man  had  built  their  roof. 
From  without,  this  narrow  cleft  would  pass  unnoticed, 
being  blocked  with  such  a  matted  tangle  of  growth. 

They  had  been  none  too  soon,  for  ere  they  had 
travelled  thirty  paces  the  shouts  of  the  archers  came  to 
them  from  above.  They  would  find  Chaubran,  and  if 
he  was  not  dead — and  the  Sieur  Giraud  knew  not — they 
would  set  to  scouring  the  wood  for  them.  Unless  one 
of  their  number  should  fall  into  the  spring,  it  was  scarce 
likely  they  would  look  in  the  right  direction. 

The  way  was  stony  and  productive  of  much  cutting 
of  the  hands,  and  they  were  forced  to  descend  slowly 
and  fairly  clear  each  step  before  them.  But  at  length 
Marcelle  stopped  and  signalled  them  to  be  quiet;  then, 
after  listening  a  moment,  worked  her  way  through  the 
brush  ahead,  and  stepped  forth  into  the  open.  They 
followed  immediately,  and  found  themselves  at  the  pre- 
cise spot  where  Marcelle  had  appeared  to  them  before 
the  fray  began.  Now  they  both  recalled  the  soiled  state 
of  her  face  and  attire,  and  her  sudden  appearance  as 
from  the  branches  above. 

"  'Tis  a  way  I  found  myself,"  whispered  Marcelle, 
her  face  glowing  in  the  flaring  light  of  the  fire  above. 
"  None  other  of  the  band  knows  of  it ;  and  now  come ; 
we  must  away  down  the  valley  while  they  are — are  occu- 
pied above." 

She  shuddered  again  as  she  said  this  last. 

"  Down  the  valley  ?  "  said  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"Ay,  for  we  go  to  Dinant.  'Tis  our  only  refuge 
now,"  she  answered. 

"  But  the  gates  will  be  closed,"  said  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles. 

"They  will  open  to  me,"  was  the  reply;  and  with- 
out further  word  she  led  the  two  men  through  the 

224 


THE   STAMP   OF   MORET  THE  ARMOURER 

forest,  now  lurid  with  the  glow  from  the  great  furnace 
above. 

They  followed  her  as  they  would  have  followed  one 
they  trusted  implicitly ;  yet  both  believed  that  she  would 
hesitate — indeed,  had  hesitated — at  naught  to  gain  her 
ends,  even  to  the  shedding  of  blood.  Why  they  now 
put  faith  in  her  neither  could  have  told. 

So,  at  last,  they  came  before  the  great  gates  of 
Dinant,  and  here  rose  up  to  greet  them  Tite,  who  wept 
copious  tears  into  his  beard  at  sight  of  Marcelle,  and 
Poncet  Meux,  who  neither  wept  nor  laughed,  but  rocked 
himself  in  moody  silence  upon  the  ground. 

Then  Marcelle  went  to  the  barrier,  and,  after  some 
moments,  the  guard  came  in  answer  to  her  call.  In 
turn,  he  called  the  officer  in  charge,  who  delayed  only 
to  assure  himself  that  it  was  indeed  Marcelle  who  asked 
admittance.  A  moment  later,  with  much  creaking,  the 
great  bridge  descended  and  the  gates  ponderously  swung 
open  before  them. 

In  truth,  these  people  of  Dinant  held  Marcelle  in 
high  regard.  So  thought  Monsieur  Vignolles  as  they 
entered — this  surviving  band  of  five — and  the  gates 
again  closed  behind  them. 

"  Heaven  bless  the  child ! "  muttered  Tite,  and  his 
eyes  shone  moist  in  the  light  of  the  guard  lantern. 

As  for  the  Sieur  Giraud,  he  was  thinking  how  close 
it  all  had  been,  and  his  hand  shook  ever  so  slightly,  for 
its  fingers  still  seemed  to  feel  the  stamp  of  Moret  the 
Armourer. 


225 


CHAPTER  XV 

IN    THE    MARKET-PLACE 

FIVE-SCORE  men,  thrown  out  of  prosperous  em- 
ployment and   subjected  to   all  the   discontent 
that  idleness  breeds,  may  become  a  dangerous 
factor   in  any  peaceful   community.     Increase 
their  number  to  a  thousand,  and  the  resulting  disorder 
will  be  made  greater  by  much  more  than  the  tenfold 
expansion    the    mere    figures    indicate.      Multiply    this 
thousand  by  a  half-score,  do  away  with  all  attempt  at 
law  and  order,  and  raise  the  price  of  a  crust  to  that 
formerly    asked  for  a  loaf,  and  there  will  have  been 
created  a  veritable  Hades  on  earth. 

Also,  there  will  be  had  a  fair  appreciation  of  condi- 
tions within  the  town  of  Dinant,  for  in  her  rambling 
streets  wellnigh  a  half-score  thousand  wretches  idled, 
caroused,  quarrelled,  and  fought  as  the  mood  seized 
them  or  opportunity  offered.  These  had  preferred  re- 
maining in  the  town  to  joining  the  roving  bands  of 
Liegeoise  in  the  hills;  but  from  them,  as  well  as  from 
the  Companions  of  the  Green  Tent,  had  all  sense  of 
right  and  wrong  long  since  departed.  Thieving,  beg- 
gary, and  murder  had  replaced  all  thrift,  and  any  man's 
life  could  be  had  for  the  mere  pittance  which  might  serve 
to  ward  off  starvation. 

Yet  scarce  a  year  before  the  towering  limestone  cliff 
yonder  had  looked  down  upon  a  vastly  different  scene 
in  the  town  nestling  at  its  base.  Great  forge-fires  then 

226 


IN   THE   MARKET-PLACE 


had  shot  columns  of  heavy  smoke  aloft,  and  by  night 
had  emitted  a  red  glow  which,  reflected  in  the  sky,  was 
visible  many  leagues  distant.  The  clamour  of  thousands 
of  hammers  upon  brass  had  rung  loudly  in  an  air 
teeming  with  the  very  essence  of  industry,  and  the 
streets  had  thronged  with  those  intent  only  on  their 
callings. 

Nor  was  it  strange  that  the  people  of  Dinant  should 
have  felt  a  species  of  pride  in  the  great  industry  they 
had  built  up.  Did  a  church  lack  baptismal  font,  or  re- 
quire intricately  wrought  organ-screen,  was  it  not  to  the 
copper-artisans  of  Dinant  that  it  turned  when  other 
workers  had  admitted  their  inability  to  cope  with  such 
designs?  If  their  brass- founders  were  known  chiefly 
for  their  output  of  mere  kitchen  utensils,  nevertheless 
such  fame  was  widespread,  and  the  worth  of  this  Dinan- 
derie,  as  it  was  known,  was  acknowledged,  not  only  in 
Europe,  but  in  England,  across  the  sea.  Moreover, 
because  of  her  thrift,  Dinant  had  been  admitted  to  the 
privileges  of  the  great  Hanseatic  League,  and  so  had 
no  need  to  fear  for  her  markets.  Therefore  the  people 
had  a  great  commercial  pride,  and,  in  truth,  this  is  one 
of  the  most  promising  forms  pride  may  assume. 

Such  had  been  one  of  the  towns  the  Bishop  of  Liege 
had  seen  fit  to  ruin,  and  now  the  better  element  in  the 
town  was  throttled  by  the  ruthless  hands  of  the  outlaws 
he  had  created,  and  scarce  dared  speak  their  views  above 
a  whisper.  Marcelle's  ready  admission  within  the  walls 
was  a  proof  of  this,  for,  indeed,  among  the  roisterers 
who  held  the  town,  her  name  was  held  in  high  favour. 
That  a  semblance  of  order  was  preserved  in  the  guard 
at  the  gates  was  due  merely  to  a  sense  of  self-interest. 

As  the  guard  finally  left  them  and  entered  his  small 
box-like  quarters,  Marcelle  turned  to  the  others. 

227 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


"  Go  to  the  house  of  Madame  Vaucler,"  she  said. 
"  Tite,  you  know  the  way  thither.  Tell  her  of  what  we 
have  passed  through,  and — and  tell  her  that — that  An- 
dre will  come  home  no  more." 

"  I  know ;  did  I  not  see  him  go  down  on  the  very 
crest  of  the  hill  when,  in  another  moment,  he  would 
have  been  safe  away  ?  "  answered  Tite  soberly. 

Marcelle  drew  a  purse  from  her  bosom  and  took 
therefrom  some  pieces  of  gold,  which  she  handed  Tite. 

"  Say  that  none  of  us  might  do  aught  to  help  An- 
dre," she  said,  "  and  give  this  gold  to  Madame  Vaucler. 
For  it  she  will  house  you  while  you  are  here,  for  God 
knows  the  poor  soul  can  have  little  enough  to  keep  the 
very  life  within  her.  Ay,  it  is  indeed  your  gold — or, 
rather,  the  constable's — I  spend  so  freely,  Monsieur 
Vignolles,"  she  added,  and  held  up  the  purse  so  that 
he  recognised  it  as  the  one  he  had  given  up. 

"  Faith,  I  had  forgotten  that  e'er  I  possessed  such 
sum,"  said  Monsieur  Vignolles  drily.  "  You  will  retain 
it,  I  make  no  doubt." 

"  You  are  wise,  Monsieur  Vignolles ;  I  shall  retain 
it;  but  only  for  a  short  time,"  she  answered,  and  thrust 
the  purse  again  from  view.  "  I  have  other  debts — debts 
that  gold  may  do  as  little  toward  paying — to  meet  here 
in  Dinant.  Madame  Vaucler  is  but  one." 

She  was  thinking  of  those  others  to  whom  she  came 
as  a  messenger  of  torturing  grief. 

Monsieur  Vignolles  bowed. 

"  Even  were  the  sum  mine  own  and  not  my  lord's," 
he  said,  "  you  should  have  it  willingly  for  the  service 
you  have  this  night  done  me." 

"  I  thank  you,"  she  answered  simply,  and  added, 
"  At  all  events  I  must  away  and  not  rest  idling  here. 
Have  a  care  how  you  speak  of  who  and  what  you  are, 

228 


IN   THE   MARKET-PLACE 


and  put  aside  the  mail  I  see  you  both  wear  beneath  your 
tunics.  Tite  and  Poncet  here  you  may  trust;  but  some 
others  of  the  band,  if  they  ever  reach  the  town,  might 
have  less  scruple  about  exposing  you." 

She  turned  on  her  heel  and  would  have  made  off, 
but  the  Sieur  Giraud  suddenly  roused  himself  and 
caught  her  by  the  sleeve  ere  she  had  made  two  paces. 

"And  you,  Marcelle;  whither  go  you?"  he  asked. 

"  I  have  said  that  I  had  my  errands — errands  I 
would  to  God  fell  not  upon  me ! "  she  answered,  and 
her  great  eyes  met  his,  so  that  he  saw  the  tears  well 
into  them. 

A  moment  he  was  silent,  and  looked  at  her  earnestly ; 
then  he  spoke,  but  seemed  not  to  be  addressing  her,  but 
some  other  listener.  Yet  withal  his  voice  was  so  low 
that  she  barely  caught  the  words. 

"  Which — which  is  the  true  Marcelle — the  mad  fury 
of  this  morning  or  she  whom  I  see  to-night  ?  " 

"  There — there  is  but  one  Marcelle,"  she  answered, 
and  felt  herself  trembling  at  his  touch  upon  her  arm. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Tell  me  not  so,  for  ever  before  my  eyes  glide  the 
two  figures — the  one  hateful,  the  other  gentle  and 
good  and  full  of  compassion.  Which  is  the  true 
Marcelle?" 

She  turned  her  head  from  him  for  an  instant,  then 
as  quickly  faced  him  with  the  look  of  a  stag  at  bay. 

"  In  pity's  name,  torture  me  not  in  this  fashion !  " 
she  cried.  "  I — I  know  not  what  I  am,  nor  whither  I 
am  going,  nor  does  it  matter.  Something — something 
is  fighting  within  me  and  tearing  me  to  pieces — here — 
here,  do  you  understand?  Ah,  let  me  go;  I — I  must  be 
alone !  " 

She  clutched  her  breast,  as  though  she  so  would 
229 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


still  the  raging  there,  and  her  words  came  with  such 
passionate  force  that  he  released  his  hold  of  her  sleeve. 

Ere  she  might  move,  Monsieur  Vignolles  hastily 
came  to  them. 

"  The  Lady  Agathe  is  in  Dinant,"  he  said  quickly. 
"  Know  you  where  she  is  housed,  Marcelle  ?  " 

Both  of  his  hearers  started;  Marcelle,  because  she 
had  hoped  to  avoid  such  inquiry  in  the  excitement  of 
the  hour;  the  Sieur  Giraud,  because  it  suddenly  struck 
him  as  strange  that  the  first  thought  of  the  Lady  Agathe 
should  come  from  Monsieur  Vignolles.  This  was  little 
short  of  recreant  on  his  part,  and  he  hastened  to  make 
amends. 

"  Ay,  Marcelle,  if  you  know,  inform  us  where  she 
may  be  found,"  he  said  eagerly.  "  Perchance  we  may 
now  be  of  small  service  to  her;  yet  it  may  please  her, 
in  this  strange  place,  to  learn  that  we  are  here,  should 
she  require  us." 

"  The  Lady  Agathe  is  here,  and  safe-housed  enough ; 
yet  you  may  not  venture  where  she  is  lodged,"  answered 
Marcelle,  after  a  pause.  "  There  she  is  known  for  the 
lady  she  is ;  but,  vagabonds  though  we  are,  we  make  war 
not  upon  women,  as  does  the  Count  de  Charolais.  But 
were  you  to  be  seen  asking  after  her,  'twould  be  short 
shrift  with  you." 

"  How  know  you  so  much  of  all  this  ?  "  exclaimed 
the  Sieur  Giraud.  "  Was  it  you,  then,  who  sent  the 
Lady  Agathe  hither — you  who  provided  for  her  safety 
and  arranged  for  her  reception  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Marcelle ;  and  then,  because  she 
was  irritated  by  his  half-approving  tone,  "  So  would  I 
have  sent  the  other  women,  had  they  not  been  of  some 
service  to  us.  The  Lady  Agathe  could  do  naught  save 
be  a  hindrance ;  therefore,  I  sent  her  to  Dinant." 

230 


IN   THE   MARKET-PLACE 


She  was  wondering,  as  she  spoke,  what  they  would 
say  did  they  suspect  her  real  reason  in  so  disposing  of  the 
Lady  Agathe. 

"  And  when  may  we  see  my  lady  ?  "  asked  Monsieur 
Vignolles. 

Marcelle  looked  at  him  sharply.  Again  she  seemed 
to  see  more  than  a  mere  chivalrous  interest  in  this  man's 
concern  for  the  Lady  Agathe.  Some  day  the  truth  re- 
garding the  Sieur  Giraud  would  come  to  my  lady's  ears ; 
even  Marcelle  could  not  hope  to  prevent  that  for  ever. 
Then  Monsieur  Vignolles,  if  he  did  cherish  any  affec- 
tion for  her,  soon  would  learn  how  hopeless  was  his 
suit. 

Marcelle  smiled  bitterly  at  this  thought  as  she  an- 
swered : 

"  I  know  not.  On  the  morrow  I  will  make  some 
arrangement,  if  I  may.  Petite  Maman  shall  -bring  you 
word." 

"  Petite  Maman  is  with  my  lady  ? "  said  the  Sieur 
Giraud. 

"  Yes,  to  attend  to  such  wants  as  may  arise ;  she  and 
Bonne  Fleuron  as  well.  And  now,  adieu;  I  have  work 
before  me." 

With  a  wave  of  the  hand  to  Tite  and  Poncet,  she 
set  out  up  the  street  and  disappeared  around  the  first 
turning. 

Poncet  Meux  had  caught  that  part  of  the  talk  con- 
cerning the  whereabouts  of  the  Lady  Agathe,  and  had 
he  so  been  disposed  could  have  answered  those  inquiries 
himself.  In  fact,  now  that  Moiise  lay  dead  yonder  in  the 
valley,  he  alone — save  for  the  two  women — held  the 
secret  with  Marcelle.  But  Poncet  had  a  long  memory, 
and  he  still  brooded  over  a  blow  the  Sieur  Giraud  once 
had  struck  him  for  naught  save  a  little  pleasantry  on  his 

231 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


part.     No;  these  two  could  find   out   for   themselves, 
since  it  was  so  important. 

Tite  led  the  way  rapidly  through  the  back  streets; 
yet  even  here  many  people  were  afoot,  watching  the 
glare  of  the  forest  fire.  At  last  he  entered  a  gateway 
on  whose  posts  hung  no  gate,  and,  the  others  following, 
crossed  a  dishevelled  patch  of  ground  and  brought  up 
before  the  door  of  Madame  Vaucler's  abode.  It  flew 
open  ere  Tite  could  knock,  and  the  old  woman  appeared 
to  confront  them,  having  heard  their  approaching  steps. 

It  is  needless  to  recount  the  scene  that  ensued,  and 
will  suffice  to  say  that  after  a  heart-rending  interval, 
during  which  the  woman's  suffering  caused  them  all  to 
turn  away,  she  threw  open  to  them  such  hospitality  as 
her  humble  abode  afforded.  This  consisted  of  but  one 
room,  that  of  the  ill-fated  Andre;  but  anything  in  the 
shape  of  a  lodging  was  only  too  welcome. 

In  the  first  instance,  Tite,  whose  utility  knew  no 
bounds,  set  himself  to  dress  the  wounds  of  the  Sieur 
Giraud  and  Monsieur  Vignolles.  The  former,  thanks  to 
his  protective  coat  of  mail,  was  but  lightly  touched, 
though  he  had  bled  copiously.  The  latter's  wound  was 
an  uglier  matter,  and  over  it  Tite  spent  considerable  time, 
finally  binding  it  up  in  cloths  soaked  in  some  herb 
infusion  the  woman  brought  him. 

Monsieur  Vignolles's  eyes  were  of  unnatural  bril- 
liancy, and  his  face  of  chalky  whiteness,  for,  in  truth, 
he  had  lost  more  blood  than  the  other,  yet  his  flow  of 
spirits  was  not  sapped. 

"  By  all  the  saints !  if  my  Lord  the  Constable  should 
set  eyes  on  me  now,  methinks  he'd  find  much  joy  in  the 
sight !  "  he  said,  and  passed  his  hand  over  his  bandages. 
"  We  shall  take  rank  as  the  first  brawlers  of  the  town 
on  the  morrow." 

232 


IN   THE   MARKET-PLACE 


"  Which  should  be  good  passports,"  answered  the 
Sieur  Giraud  with  a  laugh,  as  both  men  shed  their  steel 
casings  and  flung  them  with  their  swords  into  the  cor- 
ner nearest  the  bed. 

Madame  Vaucler  had  departed  into  the  streets,  but 
soon  returned  with  a  baked  fowl,  the  half  of  a  loaf  of 
bread,  and  two  flagons  of  wine,  which  the  magic  gold 
Tite  had  given  her  had  brought  forth  even  in  this  hungry 
town.  Small  fare  it  was  for  these  wearied  men;  but 
they  divided  it  in  silence  and  made  quick  end  of  it. 
That  done,  they  threw  themselves  on  the  coarse  blankets 
which  madame  spread  upon  the  floor — all  save  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles,  whom  Tite  swore  must  have  the  one 
small  bed — and  almost  before  the  door  had  been  closed 
upon  them  their  heavy  breathing  filled  the  room. 

Such  slumber  as  that  of  these  four  worn  and  jaded 
men  takes  no  account  of  the  passage  of  time,  and 
Madame  Vaucler,  looking  in  upon  them,  when  the  fol- 
lowing morning  had  half  spent  itself,  found  them  still 
sleeping  as  though  some  potent  drug  had  been  mixed 
with  their  wine.  Had  it  not  been  needful,  she  would 
not  have  waked  them,  for  within  her  was  a  great  under- 
standing of  what  they  had  suffered ;  and,  then,  had  they 
not  been  comrades  of  Andre — her  own  Andre — now  for 
ever  gone  out  of  her  life  ?  But  she  was  left  no  choice  in 
the  matter. 

Picking  her  way  across  the  little  room,  she  knelt  and 
shook  Tite  till,  after  a  series  of  snorts,  and  what  passed 
for  a  growl,  he  sat  up  and  stared  at  her  with  some  show 
of  intelligence. 

"  The  devil !  the  sun  is  well  up ! "  he  exclaimed,  and 
his  tone  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  took  it  ill  enough 
that  that  celestial  body  so  should  have  anticipated  him. 

233 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  Ay,  and  has  been  up  these  five  hours,"  replied 
Madame  Vaucler ;  "  but  that's  neither  here  nor  there. 
Petite  Maman  has  just  been  here  with  a  message  to  you 
•from  Marcelle;  the  saints  preserve  the  dear!  She  has 
gone  forth  into  the  hills  again  to  learn  if  any  be  left 
of  the  band." 

Tite  leaped  to  his  feet,  active  enough  now. 

"  Into  the  hills !  Alone !  "  he  cried.  "  Thousand 
follies!  The  child  may  fall  in  with — yet  no;  those 
fiends,  having  done  their  work,  will  have  taken  them- 
selves off  to  Namur  again.  Why  did  Marcelle  not  speak 
of  this  purpose  last  night  ?  " 

The  old  man  glared  at  Madame  Vaucler  as  though 
she  alone  were  answerable  for  this  new  move  of  Mar- 
celle's. 

"  In  any  case,  'tis  no  place  for  Tite  here,  while  she 
alone  goes  to  the  camp,"  he  added  quickly.  "  Poncet ! 
Poncet!  do  you  bestir  your  lazy  self;  we  must  again  to 
the  forest ! " 

So  saying,  he  kicked  that  worthy  into  an  upright 
position.  The  Sieur  Giraud  and  the  other  turned  un- 
easily at  the  noise  he  made,  but  still  slept  on. 

"  Not  so  fast,  Tite,"  said  the  woman  in  a  low  voice. 
"  Marcelle  also  charges  you  and  Poncet  to  remain  here 
with  these  other  two.  Methinks  she  would  have  an  eye 
kept  upon  them.  And  she  bids  you,  by  the  love  you 
bear  her,  to  say  naught  to  them  of  the  whereabouts  of 
some  woman  called  Agathe,  till  her  return.  'Tis  no  right 
of  mine  to  pry  into  Marcelle's  affairs;  but  who  is  this 
Agathe?" 

"  You  have  woman's  reason,"  answered  Tite ;  "  but 
since  'tis  none  of  your  affair,  look  not  for  answer  to 
the  question  you  ask  in  the  same  breath.  So  I'm  to  stay 
here  to  nurse  these  two  great  hulking  babes.  Well,  per- 

234 


IN  THE   MARKET-PLACE 


chance,  Marcelle  is  right,  and  they'll  bear  the  watching," 
he  went  on  to  Poncet,  "  though,  by  my  faith,  I  believe 
the  time  past  when  they  would  try  any  tricks.  However, 
'tis  clear  that  Marcelle  means  to  keep  the  fine  lady  close 
enough,  and  'tis  not  for  us  to  seek  for  the  reason." 

Thus  it  was  that  some  moments  later  the  other  two, 
on  awakening,  found  this  fresh  predicament  facing  them, 
and  realised  that  the  Lady  Agathe  was  as  far  from 
them  as  though  they  were  still  in  the  hills.  Had  they 
believed  that  either  Tite  or  Poncet  knew  what  they  so 
ardently  sought  to  learn,  it  is  probable  they  might  have 
forced  the  information  from  the  latter;  but,  alas!  they 
thought  the  secret  alone  held  by  Marcelle.  Yet  there 
was  a  ray  of  hope,  for  she  had  said  that  the  women 
Petite  Maman  and  Bonne  Fleuron  were  with  the  Lady 
Agathe.  While  they  were  sure  that  the  latter  would  not 
venture  into  the  turbulent  streets,  it  was  more  than  prob- 
able that  one  of  the  others  might  do  so,  and  once  seen, 
there  would  remain  but  to  follow  her  home  to  discover 
the  Lady  Agathe's  lodging. 

Their  long  rest  had  restored  them  greatly,  and 
though  Monsieur  Vignolles's  head  still  ached  consum- 
edly,  he  would  not  hear  of  being  left  behind  when  the 
Sieur  Giraud,  after  their  meagre  repast,  rose  and  threw 
on  his  sword.  Willingly  would  they  have  shaken  Tite, 
but  he  showed  not  the  least  intention  of  leaving  them, 
and  so  the  three  together  fared  forth  into  the  streets. 

Poncet  made  off  by  himself.  His  father,  the  vine- 
grower,  had  come  into  the  town  that  morning,  bringing 
his  spouse  and  such  of  his  household  treasures  as  might 
find  place  upon  their  backs.  It  was  growing  too  warm 
for  the  old  couple  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Great  Bald  Knoll. 
They  preferred  Dinant  with  all  its  turmoil ;  and  Poncet, 
hearing  of  their  arrival  from  Madame  Vaucler,  whose 
16  235 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


range  of  gossip  was  extensive,  went  to  find  them  where 
they  lodged. 

Tite's  companionship,  though  irksome,  had  its  ad- 
vantages. The  others  soon  recognised  this  as  they  made 
their  way  through  the  crowded  streets,  for  the  man 
seemed  on  speaking  terms  with  quite  half  the  people 
they  met.  Hence,  though  they  were  strangers,  they  were 
not  subjected  to  any  suspicious  questioning,  since  the 
fact  that  they  were  with  so  ardent  an  outlaw  as  Tite 
was  sufficient  passport.  Moreover,  this  day  things  of 
greater  moment  absorbed  the  unruly  throng. 

Over  the  distant  hills  still  hung  a  dense  pall  of  black 
smoke ;  but  the  fire  had  swept  onward  through  the  Ar- 
dennes wood,  away  from  Dinant,  to  die  out,  no  man 
might  say  where  and  when.  But  for  this  as  well  the 
mob  now  had  no  heed. 

The  magistrates — mad,  in  truth,  they  must  have  been 
— terrified  by  the  threats  the  Count  de  Charolais  had 
hurled  at  their  heads,  had  made  a  last  despairing  effort 
to  avert  the  town's  impending  doom.  They  had  that 
morning  caused  to  be  seized  the  ringleaders  of  the 
rabble  which  had  cast  the  bastard  effigy  of  Count 
Charles  over  the  walls  of  Bouvignes ;  all,  save  the  man 
Gaspard  Lenoir,  whom  they  could  not  lay  hands  on. 
At  the  hour  of  eleven  these  prisoners  were  to  be  taken 
before  the  magistrates  in  the  town-hall. 

This  Tite  communicated  to  his  two  companions  as 
they  neared  the  market-place,  through  which  the  cap- 
tives must  pass  and  whither  the  crowd  was  tending 
in  one  great,  heaving  swell.  The  very  fact  that  a  last 
weak  attempt  at  law  and  order  was  being  made,  that 
the  magistrates  so  would  cringe  before  the  hated  foe 
of  Burgundy,  served  to  enrage  the  frenzied  populace. 
The  roaring  from  thousands  of  throats  made  of  the 

236 


IN   THE   MARKET-PLACE 


market-place  a  perfect  bedlam ;  but  this,  as  the  hands 
of  the  town-hall  clock  neared  the  hour  of  eleven,  be- 
came lessened  to  a  murmur  and  then  died  away  to  si- 
lence— an  ominous  silence  it  was,  coming  from  such  a 
gathering. 

And  now  the  Sieur  Giraud  and  the  others  could  catch 
the  whispered  utterances  that  passed  sullenly  from  one 
to  another.  For  the  most  part,  the  temper  of  the  rab- 
ble was  for  seizing  the  prisoners ;  but  there  were  many 
who  hesitated  not  to  heap  curses  upon  them,  as  the 
great  cause  of  the  fate  that  menaced  the  town.  One, 
in  truth,  went  so  far  as  to  bemoan  the  fact  that  Gas- 
pard  Lenoir  himself  had  not  been  taken.  Yet  but  a 
fortnight  before  they  had  hailed  this  achievement  of  the 
effigy  and  its  inventor  with  joyous  approval ;  but  then 
they  were  in  the  minority,  and,  in  any  case,  one  looks 
not  for  reason  in  a  mob.  Decidedly,  though,  there  was 
an  element  in  this  gathering  that  the  man  Lenoir  would 
do  well  to  avoid. 

The  first  stroke  of  the  great  bell  calling  the  hour 
fell  suddenly  upon  the  air.  Instantly  the  crowd  surged 
forward,  and,  at  the  same  moment,  the  gates  of  the  little 
prison  opposite  the  town-hall  opened. 

A  score  of  town-guards — the  last  on  whom  the  mag- 
istrates might  depend — issued  forth,  and,  thrusting  the 
people  back  with  their  pikes,  formed  about  the  half- 
dozen  wretches  who  followed  them.  As  they  set  forth 
across  the  square  a  low,  ugly  murmur  again  arose,  yet 
the  gathering  seemed  to  lack  either  the  stimulus  or  the 
leader  for  the  move  they  intended. 

For  the  former,  they  had  not  long  to  wait,  for,  even 
as  the  procession  came  to  the  very  centre  of  the  square, 
one  of  the  prisoners — a  tall,  long-haired  individual,  threw 
his  hands  aloft  with  a  shrill  cry: 

237 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"Franchises!  Franchises  pour  Dinant!  Ausecours! 
Au  secours!" 

("Freedom!  Civil  freedom  for  Dinant!  Help! 
Help!") 

The  cry  acted  on  the  mob  like  a  goad.  With  a 
hoarse  bellowing  it  swarmed  over  the  market-place ; 
the  pikemen  were  tossed  aside  as  so  much  chaff,  or 
beaten  to  the  ground,  and  the  prisoners  shouldered  on 
high  and  borne  about  the  square  in  a  thunder  of  shouting. 

The  magistrates,  looking  down  upon  the  scene  from 
the  windows  of  the  town-hall,  shook  their  heads  sol- 
emnly and,  with  all  haste,  fled  by  the  back  way. 

In  the  whirling  press  of  bodies  Monsieur  Vignolles 
found  himself  swept  away  from  his  companions  and 
thrown  out  upon  the  surging  border  of  the  multitude. 
A  half-drunken  rioter  lurched  against  him  and  trod 
heavily  upon  his  toes,  and  was  rewarded  with  a  blow 
that  wellnigh  upset  him.  With  a  curse,  he  gathered 
himself  and  savagely  made  at  Monsieur  Vignolles ;  but 
the  latter  stayed  not  to  argue,  and  fled  incontinently 
through  the  crowd. 

For  his  eye  had  been  caught  by  something  familiar 
in  the  figure  of  a  woman  who  was  making  her  way 
from  the  square.  A  moment  later  she  had  turned  her 
head  and  he  had  recognised  Petite  Maman.  Then,  mak- 
ing his  way  with  all  speed  after  her,  he  had  been  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  seething  horde  about  him. 

His  would-be  assailant  scowled  after  him. 

"  And  such — hie ! — such  milksops  as  that  may — hie ! 
— may  wear  swords !  "  he  said,  and  sneered  with  the 
air  of  a  conqueror. 


238 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A   MESSAGE   FROM   GASPARD   LENOIR 

FOR  some  time,  in  their  struggles  to  keep  their 
own  footing  in  the  heaving  tumult  about  them, 
neither  the  Sieur  Giraud  nor  Tite  noticed  the 
disappearance  of  their  companion.     When  they 
did  so,  it  is  an  open  question  which  was  the  more  per- 
turbed.   To  Tite,  it  meant  that  he  had  allowed  one  of 
his  charges  to  slip  his  observation;  to  the  Sieur  Giraud, 
it  brought  the  fear  that,  in  his  weak  state,  the  press 
had  proved  too  great  for  Monsieur  Vignolles,  and  he 
had  been  trampled  under  foot. 

The  square,  however,  now  was  rapidly  emptying  it- 
self into  the  streets  leading  to  it,  for  the  rabble,  having 
fulfilled  its  mission  of  defiance,  was  now  noisily  escorting 
the  rescued  to  their  respective  domiciles.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments it  was  clear  that  Monsieur  Vignolles  was  not 
numbered  among  the  fallen.  Three  or  four  of  the  pike- 
men,  an  equal  number  of  their  assailants,  and  a  dozen 
or  more  women  and  children  were  among  those  who, 
after  this  outbreak,  rose  or  were  borne  away  by  friends ; 
but  there  was  no  sign  of  him  for  whom  the  Sieur  Giraud 
searched  with  such  eager  dread. 

"  Small  fear  need  you  have  of  that,"  Tite  said  in 
answer  to  the  Sieur  Giraud's  expressed  concern.  "  Faith, 
the  man  was  not  the  same  this  morning  that  he  was  last 
night!  If  he  found  the  press  too  much  for  him,  he'd 
get  out  of  it,  as  indeed  he  has.  We'll  find  him  at 
Madame  Vaucler's,  I'll  be  sworn." 

239 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


"  I  make  no  doubt  you  are  right,  Tite,"  answered 
the  other ;  "  and  since  'tis  so,  let  us  return  there  our- 
selves, for  perchance  the  old  woman  has  managed  some 
food  by  now,  and  after  such  wretched  fare  as  this 
morning's " 

"  Ay,  you  could  eat  again  and  so  could  I,"  cut  in 
Tite ;  "  but  think  not  'tis  Madame  Vaucler  you  may  look 
to  for  easing  the  cravings  of  your  belly.  Such  day  as 
this,  you  may  be  sure  she  has  thought  but  for  Andre 
yonder;  nor  would  she  have  provided  such  fare  as  she 
did,  save  that  I  forced  it  upon  her  mind.  Yet,  despair 
not.  Fool  would  I  have  been  to  have  handed  her  all 
the  gold  Marcelle  gave  me,  for  I  foresaw  this  very  case. 
Come  with  me.  'Tis  not  a  long  walk  to  a  place  I  know 
where  we  may  quiet  this  gnawing." 

He  held  his  fist  under  the  other's  eyes  and,  opening  it 
quickly,  displayed  a  couple  of  gold  crowns. 

"  Enough  to  feed  three-score  of  ordinary,"  he 
chuckled.  "  Methinks  we  shall  have  something  left  of  it, 
even  at  famine  prices ;  but  come,  for  the  talk  of  it  fairly 
tickles  my  inwards." 

With  that,  he  rapidly  led  the  Sieur  Giraud  up  one 
of  the  streets  and,  after  sundry  turnings,  stopped  before 
a  certain  door.  By  reason  of  a  sign  swinging  over  it, 
whereon  a  huntsman  was  portrayed  in  the  act  of  spear- 
ing a  melancholy  and  faded  wild  boar,  and  by  reason 
of  the  loud  talk  coming  through  the  door,  the  Sieur 
Giraud  knew  the  place  for  an  inn.  Otherwise  it  was — 
outwardly  at  least — in  all  respects  like  the  neighbouring 
houses,  and  evidently  had  been  transformed  but  recently. 
With  all  the  assurance  of  a  man  of  wealth,  Tite  shoved 
open  the  door  and  entered,  followed  by  the  other.  From 
a  narrow  hallway  they  turned  directly  into  the  one  great 
room  the  house  now  boasted  below  stairs. 

240 


A   MESSAGE   FROM   GASPARD  LENOIR 

Here  were  gathered  about  a  score  men  and  women 
drinking  over  the  little  tables  scattered  about  the  floor 
— for  thus,  the  price  of  drink  will  be  found,  even  when 
the  crust  so  much  more  needed  is  reckoned  unattainable. 
The  landlord,  a  soft-spoken,  quiet  man,  moved  smilingly 
about  attending  to  the  wants  of  his  patrons.  His  trade 
still  thrived,  despite  the  general  misery  of  the  town,  and 
he  could  afford  to  spare  a  pleasing  word  here  and  there. 

As  Tite  and  the  Sieur  Giraud  made  their  way  to  a 
table  in  one  corner,  some  of  the  gathering  looked  up  to 
growl  a  rough  greeting  to  the  former.  But,  for  the  most 
part,  they  were  taken  up  with  the  discussion  of  the 
events  of  the  morning. 

The  Sieur  Giraud,  on  entering,  had  feared  that  his 
sword  might  lead  to  some  questioning;  but  he  quickly 
saw  that  such  concern  was  needless,  since  three  or  four 
others  sported  the  same  weapon,  and  a  miscellaneous 
pile  of  pikes,  war-hammers,  and  morning-stars  occupied 
one  corner.  In  truth,  these  people  were  preparing  be- 
times for  the  fray  before  them. 

Tite  summoned  the  landlord  and,  first  showing  a 
gold  piece  as  warrant  for  the  order,  bade  him  prepare 
a  capon  with  its  attendant  dishes,  and  serve  it  with  two 
flagons  of  his  best  wine  in  a  separate  room.  For,  in 
truth,  Tite  had  some  scruple  about  making  such  a  meal 
in  this  half-starved  company.  While  this  was  preparing, 
he  ordered  that  a  small  flagon  be  brought  to  give  them 
appetite.  The  talk  about  them  ran  fast  and  furious. 

"  Ay,  and  what  we  did  for  the  pikemen  yonder, 
we'll  do  for  this  cursed  Charlotel  and  his  army !  "  cried 
one  great  bearded  ruffian,  getting  his  voice  above  the 
others.  "  You  know  what  you  may  look  for  if  ever 
he  gets  within  these  walls ;  yet  there  be  those  that  coun- 
sel submission  to  the  Burgundians." 

241 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  Yet  not  so  many  by  three,  since  yester  morn ! " 
screamed  a  woman  with  a  harsh  laugh.  "  Ha !  Me- 
thinks  you'll  have  no  such  counsel  from  those  tongues 
yonder  on  the  walls  with  a  pike-end  pinning  them 
fast." 

This  allusion  to  the  fate  of  three  moderate  citizens 
who  had  been  beheaded  as  holding  treasonable  views 
brought  forth  a  storm  of  approval,  and  a  great  clinking 
of  cups  and  flashing  of  eyes  in  her  direction.  She  had 
omitted  to  state  that  for  refusing  to  say  a  mass  in 
celebration  of  this  deed  two  holy  men  had  been  cast  into 
the  river.  Indeed,  it  was  a  time  for  men  of  reason  to 
dissemble. 

"  I  hear  the  army  of  Charlotel  is  nigh  ready  to  move 
on  us,"  cried  a  young  man  angrily. 

"  He  was  my  'prentice  in  the  old  days,"  whispered 
Tite,  nudging  his  companion. 

"  Let  them  come !  "  roared  the  one  who  had  first 
spoken.  "  I  tell  you  King  Louis  is  only  waiting  till 
they  make  the  first  move,  to  come  to  our  aid.  We  have 
but  to  stand  firm  and  Charlotel  will  find  himself  caught 
between  the  two  of  us.  But  wait.  To-night  you  will 
hear  all  this  from  Gaspard  Lenoir,  for  he  has  been  north 
and  knows  King  Louis's  plan.  Let  every  one  be  before 
the  town-hall  to-night  at  the  hour  of  eight." 

"  And  how  know  you  so  much  where  Lenoir  keeps 
himself,  since  the  magistrates  might  not  lay  hands  on 
him  ?  "  asked  one. 

"  Fool,  were  I  a  magistrate,  no  more  would  I 
know !  "  was  the  answer ;  and  the  speaker  tapped  his 
forehead  shrewdly.  "  Does  the  cock  pheasant  lie  in  the 
open  that  the  first  fox  may  pick  him  up?  No!  But 
that's  ended  now ;  the  magistrates  are  the  ones  in  hiding, 
and  the  word  is  passed.  Lenoir  will  speak  from  the 

242 


A   MESSAGE   FROM   GASPARD   LENOIR 

steps  of  the  town-hall  to-night.     I  have  seen  him,  and 
have  the  word  from  his  own  lips." 

Whatever  the  man's  other  qualities,  he  must  have 
been  given  to  uttering  the  truth,  for  none  disputed  his 
word.  Instead,  there  arose  much  shouting  and  hammer- 
ing of  the  tables.  It  was  evident  that  Lenoir  held  a 
place  high  in  their  affections. 

"  Yet,  methinks,  had  not  this  youth  Lenoir  steeled 
the  very  heart  of  Count  Charles  against  us,  all  might 
have  been  well." 

It  was  an  old  man  who  so  spoke,  and  his  gray  hairs 
alone  saved  him  from  the  wrath  of  the  more  violent. 
However,  the  Sieur  Giraud  saw  a  number  exchange 
meaning  glances  and  nod  as  though  in  accord  with  what 
he  said.  Above  the  loud  chorus  of  calls  to  throw  the 
old  man  into  the  street,  the  bearded  one  again  made 
himself  heard. 

"  Old  man,"  he  cried,  "  we  like  not  your  sentiment ; 
nor  is  there  any  other  name  than  Charlotel  that  rings 
true  in  this  town.  Were  it  not  that  your  speech  be- 
trays the  folly  of  age,  you  should  have  good  cause  to 
know  this.  Perchance  yon  other  gray-head  in  the  cor- 
ner holds  similar  views." 

He  pointed  a  deriding  finger  at  Tite,  who,  seeing 
that  he  was  becoming  the  focus  of  all  eyes,  rose  to  his 
feet. 

"If  you  mean  me,  Jacques  Rochet,  you  know  my 
name  well  enough,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  Well,  Tite,"  answered  the  man  somewhat  discon- 
certed, "  we  all  know  where  your  heart  is.  How  name 
you  the  Burgundian  fiend,  Count  Charles  or  Charlotel? 
And  speak  aloud,  that  this  other  may  have  it  from  one 
of  his  own  age." 

Tite  folded  his  arms  slowly. 
243 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  It  all  depends,"  he  said,  and  his  eyes  shone  hard 
upon  the  man  Rochet  from  under  their  shaggy  brows. 

There  was  a  general  shuffling  of  feet  and  many 
angry  looks  were  shot  at  him.  He  paid  them  not  the 
slightest  heed. 

"  It  all  depends,"  he  went  on  slowly.  "If  some  fool 
like  you,  Jacques — whom  I  have  taken  across  my  knee 
many  times  when  you  would  have  meddled  with  my 
forge,  and  not  many  years  ago  at  that — if  such  a  fool 
ask  the  question,  thinking  to  have  sport  with  me,  then 
shall  he  have  the  answer.  I  say  Count  Charles  de 
Charolais." 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  comrades  ?  Tite  himself — " 
began  Rochet  with  great  bluster. 

"  Yes,  they  heard,  never  fear,"  broke  in  Tite ;  "  but 
the  truth  is,  they  know  us  for  what  we  are.  They  know 
that,  left  to  myself,  I'd  shout  Charlotel  with  the  best 
of  them,  and  that  you,  left  to  yourself,  and  with  no 
chance  of  making  a  show,  wouldn't  shout  anything. 
You've  grown  a  good  bit  of  hair,  and  'tis  well  you  have, 
for  it  serves  to  cover  as  dirty  a  face  as  there  is  in 
Dinant.  You  make  sport  of  me,  Jacques  Rochet.  Ha! 
Come  on,  then,  and  see  how  you  fare." 

The  challenge  thus  thrown  in  his  teeth,  the  other's 
blustering  air  subsided  suddenly.  Despite  his  size,  he 
was  a  craven  at  heart,  and,  moreover,  was  well  aware 
of  the  corded  muscle  beneath  Tite's  leathern  jerkin. 
Therefore  he  said  sullenly: 

"  Ha !  You,  too,  would  play  upon  the  white  hairs 
that " 

But  here  a  great  roar  of  laughter  shook  the  air,  and 
there  were  loud  cries  of  "  Tite !  Tite !  "  and  many  up- 
liftings  of  beakers  in  his  direction. 

Through  it  all  the  Sieur  Giraud  had  sat  silently  lis- 
244 


A   MESSAGE   FROM   GASPARD  LENOIR 

tening  and  waiting  for  the  onset  on  Tite  he  felt  sure 
would  come.  His  hand  had  fallen  upon  his  hilt,  for 
he  found  a  growing  liking  for  this  old  man  arising  within 
him,  and  would  have  surely  taken  his  part.  As  Tite 
again  sat  down  beside  him,  he  felt  constrained  to  mur- 
mur: 

"Well  played,  Tite!" 

"  You'll  hear  no  more  from  him ;  the  wind  is  out  of 
him  for  a  while,"  answered  Tite  grimly;  and  as  he  did 
so  the  landlord  approached  and  whispered  that  the  re- 
past was  ready  in  a  room  up-stairs.  They  rose  and  fol- 
lowed him,  Tite  coming  in  for  much  banter  as  they 
left  the  room. 

Hungry  men  are  but  little  given  to  talk,  and  the 
two  scarce  exchanged  a  word  till  they  had  disposed 
of  the  repast  the  landlord  set  before  them.  At  length 
the  Sieur  Giraud  lay  back  in  his  chair  and  spoke  with 
much  feeling. 

"  The  saints  bless  you,  Tite ;  'tis  the  first  proper  meal 
I  have  seen  this  fortnight ! "  he  said  thankfully,  and 
added  with  some  compunction,  "  Yet  I  would  that 
Monsieur  Vignolles  were  here  to  share  with  us." 

"  Mayhap  he'll  stick  closer  by  us  another  time,"  an- 
swered Tite  grimly. 

From  the  room  below  came  loud  shouting,  in  which 
the  name  Lenoir  was  repeated  again  and  again.  Evi- 
dently the  gathering  were  toasting  his  renown. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  leaned  his  elbows  on  the  table  and 
seemed  much  interested. 

"  Tite,  who  is  this  Gaspard  Lenoir  ? "  he  asked. 
"  By  my  faith,  some  right  have  I  to  ask,  since  through 
a  lying  tale  of  him  I  wellnigh  lost  my  life." 

"  The  devil !  And  in  what  way  could  you  be  con- 
cerned with  him?"  asked  Tite  with  some  suspicion. 

245 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


For  some  reason  the  Sieur  Giraud  gave  him  no  di- 
rect answer,  but  laughed  bitterly. 

"  "Pis  of  small  consequence,  save  to  myself,  now  that 
the  affair  is  over,"  he  said ;  "  but,  Tite,  you  draw  too  long 
a  bow  when  you  show  such  fearful  distrust  of  a  man 
reduced  to  my  state.  However,  if  you  choose  not  to 
answer  such  simple  question,  have  your  way,  for  to 
argue  with  such  stubborn  bull-head  as  you  are  is  a 
folly  I'd  ne'er  essay." 

The  Sieur  Giraud's  purposely  careless  tone  had  its 
expected  effect  upon  Tite. 

"  Faith,  speak  not  of  my  having  any  fear  of  aught 
you  can  do  even  were  you  so  disposed,"  he  answered. 
"  Once,  maybe,  you,  like  all  the  rest  of  them  at  Namur, 
would  have  given  much  to  lay  hands  on  this  Gaspard 
Lenoir,  but  you  know  what  such  attempt  would  mean 
to  you  now." 

He  paused  and,  by  pantomime,  graphically  illustrated 
the  dismemberment  of  his  own  body,  which  the  other 
noted  in  grim  silence.  Then  he  went  on: 

"  I  said  naught  of  not  answering  your  question,  and 
'twas  you  who  accorded  none  to  my  own.  Howsomever, 
that's  no  affair  of  mine,  since  you  are  the  Sieur  Giraud 
and  I  only  Tite,  the  outlaw;  and  so,  probably,  it  shall 
remain  to  the  end  of  time.  What  I  know  of  Gaspard 
Lenoir  is  easy  enough  told  you.  A  sixmonth  ago  it  was 
he  came  here  from  Liege.  An  old  woman  who  lives  in 
a  hovel  in  the  Rue  Basse,  close  under  the  western  wall, 
gives  him  shelter  when  he  is  in  Dinant;  but  he's  abroad 
much  of  the  time.  A  strange  sort  is  that  old  wench,  by 
my  faith ! " 

"  Perchance  'tis  some  kin  of  his,"  said  the  Sieur 
Giraud. 

"  Nay,  for  she's  been  known  here  for  years,"  an- 
246 


A  MESSAGE   FROM   GASPARD   LENOIR 

swered  Tite.  "  Tis  said  that  she  was  once  one  of  a  band 
of  minstrels  and  mummers  at  the  court  of  Charles  VII. ; 
but  saints!  she  has  become  but  a  witch  now,  and  devil 
a  man  or  woman  is  there  in  Dinant  but  crosses  the  street 
before  her  hut  for  fear  of  the  evil  eye." 

"  Yet  the  man  seems  well  enough  known  here,"  said 
the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  Did  you  once  hear  him  speak,  then  would  you  have 
small  wonder  at  that,"  answered  Tite,  "  though,  by  my 
faith,  he  is  little  more  than  a  lad  in  years.  Being  much 
in  the  hills,  ne'er  have  I  heard  him,  but  'tis  said  his  tirade 
against  the  Burgundians  is  such  that  none  may  listen 
unmoved,  and  certain  it  is  that  the  people  here  fair  take 
pattern  after  what  he  says." 

"  Tite,"  said  the  Sieur  Giraud  suddenly,  "  a  great 
longing  has  come  over  me  to  see  this  man  Lenoir,  on 
whose  head  the  Count  de  Charolais  has  set  a  price.  It 
is  a  curiosity  born  of  considerable  interest  that  prompts 
me,  so  much  so  that  methinks  I  will  go  to  the  town-hall 
to-night." 

"  I  had  it  in  mind  myself,"  answered  Tite. 

"  Then  it  only  remains  to  find  Monsieur  Vignolles, 
since  he  would  wish  to  be  of  the  party,"  said  the  Sieur 
Giraud.  "  Let  us  then  to  Madame  Vaucler's,  for  'tis 
already  long  past  mid-day." 

With  that  they  rose  and,  after  Tite  had  quitted  the 
heavy  score,  betook  themselves  to  their  lodging.  Madame 
Vaucler  had  returned  only  a  half-hour  before ;  but  there 
was  no  sign  of  Monsieur  Vignolles. 

When  the  afternoon  passed,  and  still  he  put  in  no 
appearance,  the  Sieur  Giraud  became  truly  a  prey  to 
fear  for  his  safety,  and  even  Tite  betrayed  some  meas- 
ure of  anxiety.  Therefore  they  again  sallied  forth  to  the 
market-place,  but  there,  as  well  as  in  the  neighbouring 

247 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


streets,  their  inquiries  met  with  no  success.  The  mere 
fact  that  Monsieur  Vignolles's  head  was  swathed  in  ban- 
dages was  of  small  aid  to  them,  since  heads  so  bound 
up  were  too  common  in  Dinant  to  attract  notice.  One 
man,  in  truth,  they  found  who  believed  to  have  seen  the 
one  they  searched ;  but  naught  did  he  know  of  whither 
he  had  gone.  So  it  was  that  at  last  they  gave  up  the 
search  in  despair  and  returned  to  their  quarters ;  but 
Madame  Vaucler  had  still  no  news  of  the  missing  one. 

Under  the  light  of  the  one  guttering  candle — for 
darkness  had  now  settled  upon  the  town — they  sat  sul- 
lenly down  to  their  wretched  evening  meal,  and  for  the 
time,  in  their  disappointment,  all  thought  of  Lenoir  and 
the  town-hall  had  fled  their  minds. 

Meanwhile  the  crowd  was  rapidly  mustering  in  the 
market-place,  this  time  not  the  angry,  roaring  mob  of 
the  morning,  but  a  jesting  and  expectant  throng  that 
took  its  crushing  in  all  good-nature.  The  huge  torches 
which  some  of  them  bore  sent  their  unsteady  and  dan- 
cing glare  over  heads  as  closely  packed  as  the  bodies 
beneath  them  would  allow.  Some  there  were  who  even 
bawled  snatches  of  song;  others  shouted  in  chorus  some 
vituperative  or  obscene  doggerel,  always  having  for 
its  mark  the  Count  de  Charolais.  Yet  the  drawn  and 
misery-ridden  faces  of  all  these  people  gave  the  lie  to 
the  hilarity  they  would  have  had  appear,  and  their  mood 
was  but  a  forced  one.  Real  merriment  rings  true;  but 
this  mock  substitute  jarred  discordantly  upon  the  ear  as 
a  reckless  makeshift  for  suffering. 

And  then  with  the  first  stroke  of  eight  the  great 
doors  of  the  town-hall  flew  back  and  the  one  they 
awaited  came  forth  and  stood  upon  the  steps  above  their 
head.  Behind  him  came  a  half-score  vagabond  towns- 
men who  had  constituted  themselves  a  committee  to  sup- 

248 


A   MESSAGE   FROM   GASPARD  LENOIR 

port  the  speaker.  The  town-hall  itself  had  been  in  the 
possession  of  the  people  since  the  untimely  attempt  of 
the  magistrates  to  enforce  order. 

The  crowd  rose  to  the  man  Lenoir  with  one  great 
cry  of  welcome,  and  he  smiled  and,  leaning  against  a 
pillar,  waited  till  they  should  have  done. 

In  truth,  Tite  had  not  been  wrong  in  terming  him 
little  more  than  a  lad.  Save  for  the  dark  and  pointed 
growth  upon  his  upper  lip,  his  face  was  devoid  of  hair, 
and  he  could  scarce  have  attained  more  than  two  and 
a  score  years  at  the  utmost.  In  figure  he  was  small, 
almost  puny  against  the  background  of  sturdy  townsmen 
who  had  escorted  him.  His  dress  was  that  of  an  arti- 
san, from  the  heavy  shoes  and  coarse  hose  to  the  leathern 
jerkin  half-hidden  under  the  ample  folds  of  his  sleeveless 
blouse.  From  beneath  a  small,  round  cap  with  leaden 
ornament  his  dark  hair  fell  straight  to  his  shoulders. 

Two  or  three  times  he  made  an  effort  to  speak,  only 
to  awaken  another  outburst  of  cheering;  but  at  last  he 
suddenly  stepped  forward  to  the  margin  of  the  stone 
whereon  he  stood  and,  with  almost  a  petulant  air, 
stretched  forth  his  hand.  The  tumult  gradually  died 
away  to  a  dead  stillness. 

"  Men  of  Dinant " 

His  voice  was  almost  shrill,  so  high  had  he  pitched 
it  that  it  might  carry  well  out  among  them;  yet  there 
was  a  magnetic  and  clear  quality  in  it  that  might  go 
far  to  explain  the  hold  he  had  on  his  hearers. 

"  Ay,  and  women  of  Dinant  as  well,"  went  on  Lenoir, 
"  since  what  I  have  to  say  concerns  you  as  much  as  any. 
Full  well  I  know  you  come  not  here  to  listen  to  such 
poor  speech  as  I  might  offer  you,  but  to  learn  the  truth 
of  what  goes  on  to  the  north — at  Namur." 

A  low  murmur  of  assent  ran  round  the  assem- 
249 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


blage,  and  the  sea  of  haggard  faces  looked  up  at  him 
eagerly. 

"  For  over  a  month  the  Burgundians  have  been 
gathering  there,  as  you  know,"  Lenoir  continued,  "  and 
now  August  has  half  run  its  course.  Tis  madness  to 
think  the  descent  upon  us  will  be  long  delayed ;  nor  will 
it,  indeed,  since  this  very  morning  their  army  began 
crossing  the  Meuse." 

The  utmost  disorder  followed  on  this  announcement, 
loud  cries  of  "  Let  them  come !  "  mingling  with  wrathful 
remonstrances  against  the  interruption.  When  some 
quiet  again  was  obtained,  Lenoir  spoke  rapidly. 

"  This  means  that  in  three  to  four  days'  time  they 
will  be  before  the  walls.  Last  night  even  some  of  them 
fell  upon  a  band  of  Companions  yonder  in  the  hills, 
scarce  a  league  distant,  and  butchered  those  they  laid 
hands  on  without  mercy.  This  I  learned  as  I  came 
through  the  hills  to-day,  and  such  was  the  fate  of  those 
who  followed  Marcelle  the  Mad." 

"  Marcelle  the  Mad !  " 

It  came  as  one  great  horrified  cry  from  the  multitude, 
and  then  silence. 

"Ay,  'twas  none  other  than  her  band  that  so  suf- 
fered; yet  Marcelle  herself  was  unhurt,  so  had  I  the 
story." 

"  And  so  'tis  true ! "  shouted  a  burly  individual  who, 
by  way  of  indicating  some  official  post  that  he  held, 
wore  a  battered  steel  helmet  far  back  upon  his  bullet- 
head.  "  And  so  'tis  true,  for  with  these  eyes  did  I  see 
Marcelle  pass  out  of  the  gates  this  morning." 

"  And  so  it  is  that  with  every  step  the  Burgundians 
take  your  danger  increases  tenfold,"  cried  Lenoir.  "  And 
what,  men  of  Dinant,  have  you  done  to  provide  against 
the  evil  day?  Ne'er  was  there  town  easier  of  defence 

250 


A   MESSAGE  FROM   GASPARD  LENOIR 

than  this.  On  one  side,  the  river ;  on  the  others,  a  wall 
that  no  man  among  you  may  span  with  his  arms,  and 
four-score  towers  to  lend  it  added  strength;  what  more 
would  you  have  had?  By  now  you  might  have  taken 
such  measures  to  arm  and  organise  yourselves  as  would 
have  warranted  you  in  despising  those  who  set  upon 
you.  But  no ;  rather  must  you  take  to  brawling  in  the 
street,  to  swilling  strong  drink  that  your  misery  might 
be  less  plain,  and  now  it  is  too  late ! " 

A  moment  the  crowd  hung  silent  at  this  scathing 
rebuke;  then  one — he  was  that  Jacques  Rochet  who 
had  met  with  defeat  at  Tite's  hands — raised  his  great 
voice  on  high. 

"  Too  late !  What  folly  do  you  speak,  Gaspard  ?  " 
he  cried.  "  If  we  have  been  idle,  'tis  that  King  Louis 
and  the  people  of  Liege  will  ne'er  sit  quiet  while  we 
fight  alone." 

A  storm  of  approval  greeted  this  sally  and  many  dark 
and  challenging  looks  shot  toward  Lenoir.  This  sort  of 
speech  was  not  what  they  had  come  to  hear.  Yet  the 
man  never  flinched  before  them,  but  spoke  even  more 
shrilly  and  with  added  vehemence. 

"  King  Louis !  Such  help  as  he  may  give  you — he  in 
Paris  and  you  in  Dinant — that,  in  truth,  you  may  expect. 
I  tell  you  I  have  talked  with  those  who  know  his  very 
mind,  and  ne'er  may  you  look  to  him  for  a  single  lance. 
Among  the  Burgundian  army  is  the  Constable  of  France. 
Think  you  he  would  be  there  were  the  king  in  the  field 
against  him?  As  for  the  people  of  Liege,  bah!  They 
are  too  much  like  yourselves — too  given  to  talk  to  be 
reckoned  on.  If  they  ever  move,  'twill  be  when  all  is 
over.  And  now,  listen  to  the  message  I  bear  you.  Well 
enough  you  know  my  hatred  for  all  the  House  of  Bur- 
gundy; some  of  you,  at  least,  followed  me  to  the  walls 
17  251 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


of  Bouvignes  one  night  not  so  long  ago.  Well  enough 
you  know  my  heart,  and  how  I  would  rejoice  seeing 
those  who  march  upon  us  overthrown  and  taught  to 
meddle  not  with  our  city  so  long  as  this  world  lasts." 

A  loud  shout  of  assent,  yet  with  a  tentative  note  in 
its  depths,  greeted  this,  and  he  went  on  quickly. 

"  You  know  that  your  interests  are  my  interests,  and 
what  I  would  advise  you  is  what  I  deem  best.  There- 
fore, I  say  to  you,  cast  aside  the  veil  of  false  hopes  that 
blinds  you.  You  have  chosen  to  idle  and  are  but  a  rabble 
against  this  score  and  ten  thousand  trained  men  who 
approach.  You — we  all  of  us,  have  had  our  fling  at  the 
House  of  Burgundy,  and  now  some  of  us  must  pay  for 
it,  since  the  mass  of  you  are  but  half  men.  Make  such 
peace  as  you  may  with  them,  and  make  it  while  there 
still  is  time.  This  is  the  message  I  bring  you — I,  Gaspard 
Lenoir,  who  knows  of  what  he  speaks." 

An  instant  of  silence,  and  then  a  furious  tumult  en- 
sued. "  Betrayed !  Traitor !  Seize  him !  "  were  some 
of  the  cries  prominent  above  the  others. 

"  By  God,  'twas  not  so  long  ago,  as  he  says,  that  this 
Gaspard  was  leading  us  boldly  enough  to  Bouvignes !  " 
roared  Jacques  Rochet,  climbing  upon  the  shoulders  of 
those  in  front  that  he  might  be  seen.  "  And  now  he 
prates  of  cringing  before  Charlotel,  that  he  may  wring 
our  necks  one  after  the  other." 

"  Fool,  'tis  that  I  would  save  your  lives,  such  as  I 
may,"  cried  Lenoir.  "  Before,  I,  too,  was  blinded  by 
hatred  of  the  Burgundians ;  but  I  know  death  when  I  see 
it  looking  me  in  the  face.  If  I  have  erred,  you  have  the 
satisfaction  of  knowing  I  shall  be  the  first  to  suffer." 

"  Ay,  you  the  first,  and  who'd  be  the  next  ?  "  cried 
Rochet,  for  it  had  become  a  duel  between  them.  "  Per- 
chance you,  Jean  Raes ;  or  you,  Guy  Beaujeu ;  or  any  one 

252 


A   MESSAGE   FROM   GASPARD  LENOIR 

of  you  others  Charlotel  might  deem  worthy  of  hanging. 
Ha!  You  will  like  this,  you  good  people,  just  when  we 
are  ready  to  crumple  the  Burgundians.  I  tell  you  this 
counsel  is  treason,  whether  it  come  from  Gaspard  Lenoir 
or  another ! " 

A  thunderous  shout  of  acclamation  broke  forth,  and 
like  a  devouring  wave,  the  crowd  rolled  toward  the  steps. 
It  was  fortunate  for  Lenoir  that  those  who  had  accom- 
panied him  thither  were,  for  an  instant,  too  stupefied 
at  this  unlooked-for  ending  to  make  a  move.  It  afforded 
him  time  to  dive  within  the  open  doorway  back  of  him, 
and  flee  for  the  little  garden  behind,  which,  in  turn,  by 
a  narrow  gate  gave  upon  the  street. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  Sieur  Giraud  and  Tite,  who  had 
at  last  remembered  their  resolve  to  be  present  before  the 
town-hall,  hurrying  through  this  dark  back  street,  came 
into  violent  collision  with  Lenoir.  The  mishap  upset  that 
worthy  upon  the  pavement,  but  he  quickly  regained  his 
feet  and  made  off,  disappearing  round  the  nearest  corner. 

The  next  moment  the  Sieur  Giraud  and  Tite  were  en- 
gulfed in  the  cursing,  yelling  mob  that  streamed  from 
the  garden.  Deeming  it  a  personal  attack,  right  nobly 
did  they  strike  out  at  such  heads  as  came  within  reach, 
and  soon  had  widened  the  circle  about  them.  Then, 
having  room,  the  Sieur  Giraud  got  his  sword  free  and 
the  pressing  crowd  fell  back  farther  at  sight  of  the  ugly 
steel  and  the  way  'twas  played. 

Yet  of  a  sudden  the  Sieur  Giraud  paused  and  his 
point  fell,  and  Tite,  having  disposed  of  one  who  would 
have  throttled  him,  looked  at  him  in  some  wonder.  The 
crowd,  seeing  they  had  not  to  do  with  the  one  they 
sought,  passed  headlong  in  both  directions  along  the 
street. 

And  still  a  moment  longer  the  Sieur  Giraud  stood 
253 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


motionless,  for,  in  the  darkness  of  the  narrow  way,  for 
one  instant  he  had  caught  sight  of  a  face  that  gave  him 
pause  for  thought — the  face  of  Crepin  Brune.  Then  the 
man  had  disappeared  in  full  flight  after  Lenoir.  Had  he 
been  nearer,  the  Sieur  Giraud  would  have  struck  him 
down  without  mercy,  for,  besides  his  back  reckoning  to 
settle,  there  was  the  chance  of  Crepin's  exposing  him  as 
a  former  Burgundian.  This  would  be  a  death-warrant 
in  Dinant,  as  the  Sieur  Giraud  knew  only  too  well ;  and 
he  breathed  easier  in  the  belief  that  the  man  either  had 
not  seen  him,  or  had  failed  to  recognise  him  in  the  dark. 
But,  of  course,  there  was  always  the  morrow. 


254 


CHAPTER   XVII 

AT    THE    WIDOW    GALIOT's 

FORTUNATE,  indeed,  had  the  Lady  Agathe  ac- 
counted herself  on  learning  what  exterminating 
calamity  had  overtaken  the  band  with  which, 
for  a  short  time,  her  life  had  been  linked.  At 
first  she  had  been  inclined  to  protest  against  the  breath- 
less pace  Poncet  and  Moiise  urged  upon  the  women ;  but 
their  wisdom  had  struck  her  forcibly  enough  when  she 
and  the  other  two  were  thrust  through  the  already  clos- 
ing gates  of  Dinant. 

Now  that  she  knew  what  had  occurred  she  could  find 
naught  but  admiration  for  the  clever  way  the  men  had 
managed  to  slip  past  the  flank  of  the  foe  creeping  up  the 
gorge.  It  was,  therefore,  not  strange  that  she  should 
look  on  Marcelle  as  her  preserver,  and  should  listen  with 
rapt  attention  to  her  recital  of  what  had  taken  place. 
For  it  was  direct  to  the  house  whither  Petite  Maman 
had  conducted  the  Lady  Agathe  that  Marcelle  had  flown 
on  leaving  the  others  at  the  gate. 

Yet  her  stay  had  been  much  shorter  than  the  Lady 
Agathe  would  have  desired,  and  after  assuring  herself 
that  the  latter's  wants  were  being  met  and  leaving  a  few 
pieces  of  gold  with  her,  Marcelle  had  departed  to  return 
only  at  a  late  hour  when  sheer  fatigue  had  forbid  any 
further  talk  between  them. 

With  the  morning  she  was  gone  from  the  house,  leav- 
ing word  that  she  had  gone  back  into  the  hills,  but  would 

255 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


return  ere  long.  Her  caution  to  remain  close  indoors 
was  lost  on  the  Lady  Agathe,  who  would  not  have 
thought  of  venturing  into  the  turbulent  streets.  No  such 
fear  had  Petite  Maman,  however.  Disdaining  the  offer 
of  the  widow  Galiot,  who  lodged  them,  she  had  confi- 
dently fared  forth  in  search  of  supplies  for  the  larder, 
returning  about  noon  greatly  excited  over  the  brawl  in 
the  market-place. 

Now  the  remains  of  the  evening  repast  long  since  had 
been  cleared  away,  and  Petite  Maman  had  retired  to  the 
kitchen  where  she  mostly  kept  herself  with  Bonne  Fleu- 
ron  and  the  widow  Galiot. 

In  one  of  the  other  two  rooms  the  Lady  Agathe  threw 
herself  upon  her  bed.  Her  gaze  was  fixed  upon  the  dingy 
ceiling,  and  again  she  went  over  in  her  mind  what  Mar- 
celle  had  told  her,  and  speculated  as  to  the  probable  time 
of  her  return,  for,  in  truth,  she  now  held  this  girl  very 
dear  in  her  heart. 

Of  a  sudden  there  came  to  her  ears  from  the  kitchen 
sounds  that  brought  her  trembling  to  her  feet — a  quick 
scuffle,  a  hoarse  exclamation  in  a  man's  voice,  mingled 
with  the  women's  shrill  outcries,  the  quick  slam  of  a 
door,  and  then  a  deafening  din  as  though  all  there  had 
fallen  to  beating  upon  pans  and  kettles.  Ere  she  might 
move,  Petite  Maman  came  striding  into  the  room,  her 
face  hot,  but  triumphant. 

"  Now  that  we've  got  him  safe,  I  don't  mind  telling 
you ! "  she  cried,  raising  her  voice  above  the  clatter  that 
now  came  with  added  force  through  the  open  door. 

"  Got  him !  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  gasped  the  Lady 
Agathe. 

"  I  mean  none  other  than  Master  Busybody,  who 
must  needs  follow  me  home  from  the  market-place  this 
noon,"  was  the  answer.  "  Faith,  the  fool  thought  I'd 


AT   THE  WIDOW   GALIOTS 


not  know  him  with  his  head  swaddled  in  rags;  nor  did 
I,  till  my  foot  was  on  the  very  door-sill.  However,  he'll 
do  no  one  any  hurt  now,  if  such  was  his  intent.  I  spoke 
not  of  it  before,  for  fear  'twould  make  you  fret,  which 
Marcelle  said  was  to  be  avoided." 

"  But  who— what " 

A  louder  crash  than  ever  mingled  with  the  man's 
muffled  curses  sent  Petite  Maman  into  a  spasm  of 
laughter. 

"  Ha !  Tis  he  will  know  Dinanderie  the  next  time 
he  sees  it !  "  she  cried,  and  shook  her  brawny  arm  in  de- 
rision in  the  direction  whence  came  the  racket. 

In  truth,  the  man  would  gain  some  acquaintance  with 
this  ware,  since  the  widow  Galiot,  having  been  a  dealer 
therein  in  a  small  way,  on  trade  becoming  paralysed,  had 
stored  her  surplus  stock  in  that  very  closet. 

"  All  the  afternoon  has  he  been  prowling  about  the 
house,  front  and  back,  till  he  could  make  up  his  mind 
which  promised  best,"  went  on  Petite  Maman.  "  When 
we  saw  him  start  for  the  kitchen  we  gave  him  free  field 
and  an  open  window;  the  rest  was  a  shove  and  a  twist 
of  the  door-battens.  He  scarce  knows  yet  how  he  came 
inside  that  closet." 

She  laughed  long  and  immoderately. 

"But  who  is  this  man?"  cried  the  Lady  Agathe 
wildly. 

Bonne  Fleuron  thrust  her  head  through  the  door- 
way. 

"  You'd  best  be  ready  to  lend  us  a  hand,  Petite 
Maman,"  she  said.  "  The  battens  are  coming  loose  and 
he'll  be  out  in  a  moment." 

Indeed,  the  man  had  by  now  ceased  his  cursing  and 
devoted  himself  to  straining  at  the  door.  Petite  Maman 
hitched  her  sleeves  upward  over  the  elbows  and  started 

257 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


for  the  fray,  yet  she  paused  long  enough  to  say  to  the 
Lady  Agathe: 

"  Who  is  the  man  ?  Faith,  you  should  know  him 
well  enough,  since  'tis  for  you  he  comes  nosing  round 
here,  methinks.  'Tis  none  other  than  the  gay  spark  that 
came  with  you  the  day  Tite  brought  you  to  camp." 

"  Monsieur  Vignolles !  "  cried  the  Lady  Agathe,  and 
even  with  her  words  the  closet  door  fell  outward  with 
a  loud  crash,  and  the  man  within  shot  over  it  into  the 
room. 

In  an  instant  the  three  women  would  have  been  upon 
him,  for  they  knew  not  the  name  of  fear,  but  the  Lady 
Agathe  had  flown  to  the  doorway. 

"  Stop !  "  she  cried  in  a  tone  that  carried  far  with 
these  women.  "  I  will  answer  for  the  man ;  stand 
away ! " 

A  moment  they  hesitated,  then  fell  back  a  pace,  so 
that  she  stood  face  to  face  with  the  intruder. 

It  was,  indeed,  Monsieur  Vignolles,  but  his  general 
aspect  could  hardly  have  passed  as  imposing.  His 
doublet  had  worked  its  way  about  his  ears,  and  his  face 
was  flushed  with  his  efforts  till  it  seemed  fit  to  burst. 
The  handle  of  a  brass  kettle  had  caught  upon  his  sword- 
hilt  and  tilted  the  weapon  the  reverse  way  it  was  in- 
tended to  be  worn,  and  about  one  ankle  was  a  broad  metal 
cake-ring,  through  which  he  had  unwittingly  thrust  his 
foot.  All  this,  taken  with  his  bandaged  head,  served  to 
greatly  heighten  the  effect  his  presence  produced. 

Without  a  word  the  Lady  Agathe  and  he  stood  look- 
ing at  each  other;  then  he  scowled  and  tried  to  speak. 
Twice  he  repeated  this,  but  the  words  would  not  come, 
and  then,  whether  from  something  in  the  other's  eye  or 
from  his  own  predilection  to  make  light  of  any  mishap, 
he  kicked  the  ring  from  his  foot  and  laughed  aloud. 

258 


AT   THE  WIDOW  GALIOT'S 


There  was  something  so  infectious  in  his  sudden  out- 
burst of  mirth  and  so  ludicrous  in  the  figure  he  pre- 
sented that  despite  their  hostile  attitude  the  three  women 
involuntarily  joined  in  his  laughter.  Even  the  Lady 
Agathe  smiled  when  her  first  shock  at  seeing  his  wounded 
state  had  passed  and  his  manner  had  given  assurance 
that  his  hurts,  at  all  events,  were  not  of  a  serious  char- 
acter. 

However,  this  relapse  was  but  momentary,  for  what- 
ever views  the  Lady  Agathe  might  hold  regarding  this 
intruder,  Petite  Maman  and  the  others  had  a  most  de- 
cided notion  as  to  the  proper  manner  of  dealing  with  him. 
Therefore,  as  Monsieur  Vignolles  succeeded  in  disengag- 
ing the  kettle  from  his  hilt  and  let  it  fall  clattering  to  the 
floor,  Petite  Marnan  planted  herself  before  him,  arms 
akimbo,  and  a  menacing  look  in  her  eyes. 

"  And  now,  Master  Meddler,"  she  said,  "  before  we 
call  in  those  from  the  street  who  will  make  short  work 
of  you  if  I  speak  out  what  I  know,  we'd  hear  what 
devilry  you  had  in  mind  in  following  me  here.  Faith, 
if  'twere  not  that  I  have  heard  you  fought  well  yester- 
day in  the  hills,  I'd  not  give  you  this  chance,  for  once 
you  were  Burgundian,  and  for  aught  I  know  would  still 
play  their  tricks.  Marcelle  said  she  forbid  you  and  the 
other  making  any  trial  to  spy  out  where  we  were." 

"  Have  you  ended,  woman  ?  "  asked  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles drily.  "  Then  hear  me  for  a  moment.  It  was 
last  night  that  Marcelle  imposed  such  caution.  Had 
she  not  gone  to  the  hills  suddenly  she  would  have 
arranged  some  way  of  our  seeing  the  Lady  Agathe 
before  now." 

"  So  it  was  to  spy  your  way  to  my  lady  that  you 
came  ?  "  cried  Petite  Maman. 

"  My  dear  woman,  did  you  have  any  thought  'twas 
259 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


to  gaze  on  your  still  fair  but  withering-  charms?"  re- 
plied monsieur,  including  the  three  in  his  sweeping  ges- 
ture. "  Beyond  a  doubt  I  did  come  to  see  the  Lady 
Agathe.  And  now,  listen ;  you've  had  your  fill  of  sport, 
thanks  to  my  running  fairly  into  your  hands.  In  return, 
give  me  a  moment  or  two  with  the  Lady  Agathe. 
Whether  I  was,  or  am,  or  will  be,  Burgundian,  has 
naught  to  do  with  the  question  which  concerns  her  alone ; 
that  I  swear  to  you." 

The  women  burst  into  laughter. 

"  Oh,  and  is  it  so ;  that  is  all  you  would  ask  ?  "  cried 
Petite  Maman.  "  'Tis  likely  that  we,  being  put  here  to 
attend  to  my  lady  and  to  keep  such  as  you  from  coming 
near  her,  would  take  up  with  such  scheme." 

"  I  would  hear  what  Monsieur  Vignolles  has  to  say 
to  me." 

The  Lady  Agathe,  as  she  spoke  these  words,  stepped 
forward  among  them. 

"  Since  he  has  found  his  way  hither  'tis  no  fault  of 
yours,"  she  went  on.  "  To  speak  of  delivering  him  to 
the  people  of  the  town  as  a  Burgundian  is  folly,  for  had 
Marcelle  wished  that  she  would  have  accomplished  it 
long  ere  this.  As  for  any  censure  you  may  fear,  I  will 
answer  to  her  for  that." 

In  truth,  the  Lady  Agathe  now  believed  her  influence 
over  Marcelle  very  great. 

"  I  have  no  liking  for  such  business,"  grumbled 
Petite  Maman,  "  yet  Marcelle  did  bid  us  pander  to  your 
wishes,  and  faith,  I  see  not  the  harm  in  a  word  or  two 
between  lovers." 

The  Lady  Agathe  gasped. 

"  But  it  is  not — we  are  not — "  she  stammered. 

"  You  are  blessed  with  discernment  beyond  the  ordi- 
nary," broke  in  Monsieur  Vignolles,  bowing  suavely  to 

260 


AT  THE   WIDOW  GALIOT'S 


Petite  Maman ;  "  for  the  Lady  Agathe  and  I  are  lovers — 
lovers  of  the  admirable  common-sense  you  are  beginning 
to  display.  We  have,  then,  your  royal  permission  to 
withdraw  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  mind  to  spy  upon  you,  if  that's  what  you 
mean,"  answered  Petite  Maman.  "  Since  my  lady  will 
have  it  so,  I  may  say  no  more.  The  saints  be  praised,  I 
was  ended  with  such  nonsense  years  ago !  " 

The  Lady  Agathe's  face  was  crimson;  but  Monsieur 
Vignolles  seemed  to  take  no  note  of  it. 

"  The  more's  the  pity,"  he  said  suavely,  "  yet  'tis  said 
that  the  very  years  which  so  cruelly  despoil  us  of  passion 
do  bring  in  its  stead  a  placid  erudition  that  renders  the 
loss  of  small  moment.  Such  must  be  your  reward,  Petite 
Maman." 

The  woman  looked  at  him  sharply;  but  his  face 
showed  all  seriousness  and  she  waved  him  toward  the 
door. 

He  held  it  open  till  the  Lady  Agathe  had  passed 
through,  then  followed,  closing  it  behind  him.  After  a 
moment  he  again  thrust  it  open  smartly.  As  he  had  ex- 
pected it  came  into  violent  contact  with  the  head  of 
Petite  Maman,  which  head  had  been  inclined  in  listening 
attitude  on  the  other  side. 

"  A  thousand  pardons,"  he  exclaimed,  as  though  he 
made  no  note  of  the  eavesdropping.  "  I  merely  returned 
to  say  that  as  I  have  fasted  since  morning  I  would 
esteem  highly  whate'er  you  might  do  to  ease  the  craving 
within  me.  In  payment  therefor  I  would  offer  you  this 
in  lieu  of  proper  coin." 

He  fumbled  at  his  neck  and  drew  forth  by  the  at- 
tached cord  a  golden  medallion  encased  in  leather. 

"  By  my  faith,  it  has  the  worth  of  two  gold  crowns," 
cried  Petite  Maman,  her  eyes  alight  with  greed.  "  Ay, 

261 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


you  shall  have  what  we  possess  of  food  when  your  talk 
shall  be  ended.  Hand  it  over." 

"  That  I  will  when  I  have  received  its  value,"  he  an- 
swered, and  coolly  replaced  it  next  his  breast.  "  Two 
gold  crowns  'tis  worth,  as  you  say,  and  more ;  yet  for  the 
food  I  stand  in  greater  need.  Fear  not,  you  shall  have 
it  if  you  bestir  yourselves." 

With  that  he  again  closed  the  door  and  the  scuffle  of 
feet  told  him  that  his  wishes  were  being  met.  He  turned 
and,  crossing  to  the  front  of  the  room,  faced  the  Lady 
Agathe. 

"  Close  work,  my  lady,"  he  said,  and  wiped  a  bead  of 
sweat  from  his  brow.  "  Hang  me,  but  methought  at  one 
time  they  meant  to  turn  me  over  to  the  canaille  in  the 
streets.  As  it  is  they  will  give  us  but  a  moment  and  we 
must  speak  quickly.  You  are  closely  watched  here,  my 
lady?" 

"  What  need  of  such  precaution,  monsieur,  since  I 
have  neither  the  mood  nor  the  opportunity  for  flight  ?  " 
she  answered. 

"  Then  the  matter  is  simplified,"  he  said  with  evident 
relief. 

His  tone  would  have  been  less  thankful  had  he  known 
that  even  at  the  moment  the  widow  Galiot  was  stealing 
stealthily  out  at  the  back  and  so  round  through  the  gar- 
den to  the  street,  down  which  she  ran  with  all  speed. 

"  What  mean  you,  monsieur  ? "  asked  the  Lady 
Agathe  in  some  wonder. 

"  This,  and  this  alone,  my  lady,  that  however  much 
we  must  bless  Marcelle  for  having  taken  such  measures 
for  your  safety,  this  very  refuge  she  has  selected  will 
prove  your  undoing  if  you  remain  here.  Nay,  hear  me 
out!  Dinant  ere  many  days  must  become  little  better 
than  a  hell,  for  the  Burgundian  army  will  move  upon  it 

262 


AT   THE  WIDOW  GALIOT'S 


soon.    Perchance  even  to-day  they  will  take  up  the  march. 
You  must  leave  here  while  there  is  yet  time." 

"  Am  I  then  ne'er  to  have  any  peace,  monsieur  ?  " 
cried  the  Lady  Agathe,  as  the  full  significance  of  his 
words  fell  upon  her.  "  Against  my  will  was  I  sent  on  the 
road  to  Bruges ;  against  my  will  was  I  ordered  here  from 
the  hills — though  for  that,  in  truth,  I  am  grateful — and 
now  you  would  have  me  leave  Dinant,  perchance  to  face 
even  worse  fate.  No,  Monsieur  Vignolles,  I  believe  you 
think  only  of  serving  me  well;  but  I  will  not  leave 
Dinant." 

"  My  lady,  there  can  be  no  worse  fate  than  for  you 
to  remain  here.  You  know  not  what  a  shambles  this 
town  will  become,  once  Count  Charles  gains  entrance, 
as  he  surely  will,  else  would  you  be  mad  to  speak  thus. 
For  you  to  steal  from  this  house  will  not  be  too  difficult. 
'Twas  to  give  you  opportunity  that  I  arranged  for  food 
with  the  women.  While  I  make  pretence  of  eating  and 
hold  their  minds,  do  you  go  forth  by  the  front  way.  I 
will  wait  till  you  have  had  time  to  gain  the  street  back 
of  the  garden,  and  then  make  a  bolt  over  the  wall  by 
the  way  I  came.  Before  they  can  give  the  alarm  we  shall 
be  far  enough  away  and  lost  in  the  crowd." 

She  seemed  unmoved  by  what  he  said. 

"  No,  monsieur.  I  thank  you,  but  I  see  not  what  you 
offer  me  better  than  my  present  state,"  she  answered. 
"  In  truth,  you  speak  of  freedom ;  but  what  would  you 
suggest;  that  again  I  should  roam  the  hills  helpless  and 
alone?" 

"  My  lady,  you  do  me  wrong,"  he  said  with  some 
dignity.  "  Since  you  would  have  such  support  as  two 
stout  hearts  could  afford  you.  Ay,  on  the  morrow,  into 
the  hills  you  would  go,  'tis  true,  but  'twould  be  on  the 
way  to  Dauphine,  and  an  end  of  all  your  misfortune." 

263 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


"  Dauphine ! " 

"  Ay,  Dauphine,  my  lady,  for  thither  shall  you  go. 
You  have  no  choice  but  to  trust  to  us.  Have  you  heart 
to  remain  here  while  Count  Charles  lays  the  walls  in 
dust  and  piles  the  dead  thick  upon  such  ruin?  Have 
you  heart  for  what  will  follow  once  he  enters,  and  for 
your  own  capture  as  well?  No,  a  thousand  times  no, 
my  lady,  you  cannot  be  so  mad." 

She  shuddered. 

"  In  pity's  name,  speak  not  of  my  falling  into  the 
hands  of  Count  Charles  now,"  she  cried.  "  Methinks 
he'd  have  less  mercy  upon  me  than  upon  some  of  these 
others." 

"  And  for  myself  and  the  Sieur  Giraud  the  question 
is  the  same,"  he  said.  "  Therefore " 

She  started  suddenly. 

"  The  Sieur  Giraud !  He  was,  then,  this  other  of 
whom  you  spoke  ? "  she  cried.  "  Sooner  would  I 
trust " 

Monsieur  Vignolles  stamped  almost  angrily  upon  the 
floor. 

"  My  Lady  Agathe,"  he  said  sharply,  "  ne'er  was 
mortal  more  deceived  than  you  have  been!  The  Sieur 
Giraud  is  as  innocent  of  what  you  hold  against  him  as 
I  am  myself;  that  I  swear.  The  whole  affair  at  the 
vine-grower's  was  the  doing  of  one  man,  Crepin  Brune, 
and  the  Sieur  Giraud  was  but  tricked  into  seeming  to 
share  in  the  conspiracy." 

"  The  Sieur  Giraud  innocent !  "  she  gasped.  "  Yet 
Marcelle  ne'er  said " 

"  If  Marcelle  let  you  believe  in  his  guilt,  'twas  from 
some  motive  of  her  own,"  he  answered  impatiently; 
"  and  methinks  I  begin  to  see  reason  in  much  I  have 
taken  for  madness  in  that  quarter.  Be  that  as  it  may, 

264 


AT  THE  WIDOW  GAL1OTS 


I  tell  you  the  Sieur  Giraud  ne'er  has  swerved  from 
what  a  fair-minded  man  would  do.  God  knows,  'tis 
only  chance  that  brings  me  here  ahead  of  him,  my 
lady." 

"  If  I  have  wronged  him  so,  what  can  I  say  to  him 
that  would  condone  such  mistake,"  she  said,  half  to 
herself,  "  Yet  why  should  Marcelle  so  mislead  me? 
Why " 

She  paused  suddenly,  and  a  moment  stood  looking 
into  Monsieur  Vignolles's  eyes. 

"  There  is  one  thing  that  might  induce  a  woman 
to  take  such  course,"  he  said.  "  Methinks  in  this  mo- 
ment it  has  come  to  you — jealousy,  I  mean." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  she  gasped ;  and  then,  as  she  ran 
over  in  her  mind  what  had  gone  before,  she  saw  how 
well  such  solution  fitted  Marcelle's  every  action. 

"  The — the  Sieur  Giraud — does  he  suspect  this  love 
she  bears  him  ?  "  asked  the  Lady  Agathe. 

"  Methinks  such  thought  ne'er  has  crossed  his  mind," 
he  answered ;  "  nor  would  it  e'er  have  struck  me,  save 
for  a  look  I  caught  upon  her  face  in  the  moment  before 
the  fight  at  the  camp.  The  Sieur  Giraud  thinks  of  you 
alone,  my  lady." 

"  You,  at  least,  are  a  good  friend  of  the  Sieur  Giraud, 
Monsieur  Vignolles." 

"  I  like  the  man,  my  lady,"  he  answered,  and  added 
with  a  smile,  "  and  our  tastes  seem  to  run  in  the  same 
direction,  perchance  too  much  so  for  the  peace  of  mind 
of  us  both." 

"  I  see  not  how  such  agreement  of  mind  can  lead  to 
aught  but  content,"  she  said,  and  half  turned  from  him. 

"  Yet  if  two  men  set  their  hearts  on  attaining  the 
same  favour,  one  is  doomed  to  disappointment  in  the 
end,  my  lady,"  he  answered. 

265 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  But  surely  until  that  end  each  may  be  supported 
by  the  hope  of  gaining  what  he  desires/'  said  the  Lady 
Agathe  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Not  when  the  prize  is  awarded  in  advance,  my  lady. 
To  cherish  such  hope  or  thought  then  would  ill  become 
a  man,  to  say  naught  of  a  friend." 

"  You  take  too  much  for  granted,  monsieur.  Some 
might  call  you  faint-hearted,  and  with  reason." 

A  moment  her  eyes  met  his,  and  then  fell. 

"  By  my  faith,  I  would  I  knew  whether  you  spoke  of 
the  same  thing  I  do !  "  he  exclaimed. 

She  smiled  and  again  gave  him  a  fleeting  look. 

"  Would  you  so  term  me,  monsieur  ?  Fie  upon  you 
then;  'tis  small  gallantry  you  show." 

He  started  forward. 

"  My  lady,  you  knew  'twas  of  you  I  spoke — and — 
and  you  bid  me  hope?  Then  you  are  not  pledged  to  the 
Sieur  Giraud?" 

For  answer  a  twinkle  came  into  her  blue  eyes,  and 
she  curved  her  lips  in  a  mocking  pout. 

"  Again  I  seem  to  be  riding  the  Bruges  road,"  she 
said  slowly,  and  her  gaze  was  far  away,  "  and  beside  me 
rides  one  whom  they  would  force  me  to  wed.  Through 
the  gathering  darkness  of  a  storm  his  voice  falls  rail- 
ingly  on  my  ear,  '  Wed  myself?  Not  to  the  best  lady  in 
the  land,  were  she  to  beseech  me  thereto  on  bended  knee ! 
We  shall  get  on  better  if  we  meet  our  punishment  with 
the  proper  spirit,  my  lady,  and ' " 

She  might  speak  no  more  for  the  arms  that  closed 
about  her  and  the  hand  that  gently  came  over  her  lips. 

"  My  lady !  Agathe !  Taunt  me  not  with  what  were 
but  the  vapourings  of  a  fool  full  of  his  own  conceit," 
cried  Monsieur  Vignolles.  "  Oh,  Agathe,  Agathe,  is  it 
true  ?  Am  I  standing  here  holding  you  in  my  arms,  dear, 

266 


AT   THE  WIDOW   GALIOT'S 


or  is  this  another  of  those  wild  dreams  that  have  pos- 
sejtsed  me  of  late  ?  " 

"  Beyond  a  doubt  you  are  so  holding  me,  monsieur," 
she  gasped. 

"  Hilaire,  dear  heart — Hilaire;  the  name  no  woman 
e'er  has  given  me,  save  my  mother  in  far-away  Lux- 
embourg," he  said,  and  kissed  her. 

Then  he  held  her  from  him  and  assumed  a  serious  air. 

"  And  have  I  been  such  a  blind  fool  long,  Agathe  ? 
I'll  be  sworn  you  hated  me  that  day  we  left  Namur." 

"  It  grieves  me  to  say  it,  but  I  fear  I  did,  Hilaire," 
she  answered.  "  Yet  that  very  day  saw  the  beginning 
of  the  great  love  I  bear  you — the  beginning,  I  say,  be- 
cause such  love  may  not  spring  up  in  a  day." 

"  The  beginning ;  and  when  did  this  first  come  upon 
you,  Agathe  ? "  he  asked  softly. 

"  I  may  not  be  sure,  Master  Inquisitor,"  she  replied, 
"  but  methinks  'twas  at  the  very  moment  you  declared 
you  ne'er  would  wed  me  willingly;  ay,  and  even  spoke 
contemptuously,  as  though  you  would  gladly  cast  me 
from  you,  if  you  might.  Then  I  began  to  dread  you  less, 
Hilaire,  and  see  you  for  what  you  were." 

"And  the  Sieur  Giraud?" 

"  Hilaire,  let  us  not  speak  of  what  might  have  been !  " 
she  said,  and  clasped  her  hands  about  his  neck.  "  A 
maid  may  love  but  once  as  I  love  you,  dear;  and  I  now 
know  that  what  I  felt  for  him  was  but  the  great  respect 
a  woman  must  feel  for  such  a  man.  It  breaks  my  heart 
to  think  that  he  soon  must  know." 

Monsieur  Vignolles  drew  her  to  him. 

"  Yes,  Agathe,"  he  said  with  a  touch  of  sadness  in 
his  tone,  "  it  will  be  a  grievous  blow  to  him,  coming 
after  all  that  he  has  suffered;  and  pity  'tis  that  in  this 
fresh  trial  he  should  see  me  the  gainer." 
18  267 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


"  It  may  not  be  otherwise,  Hilaire,"  she  answered 
softly ;  "  nor  would  you  have  it  so,  methinks." 

He  looked  down  into  the  eyes  upturned  to  his  and 
kissed  her  again ;  then  spoke  quickly. 

"And  now,  Agathe,  there  is  but  to  get  away  from 
this  house  with  all  speed.  Purposely,  I  waited  till  dark- 
ness before  venturing  to  enter,  and  now  'twill  serve  our 
project  well.  First  to  see  the  Sieur  Giraud,  and  then,  for 
to-night,  we  must  find  some  refuge  for  you;  but  with 
the  dawn  and  the  opening  of  the  gates,  we  shall  be  gone. 
You  will  go,  Agathe  ?  " 

"  To  the  end  of  the  world  with  you,  now,  dear,"  she 
answered.  "  Methinks  I  should  have  gone,  anyway." 

"  Once  without  the  walls  I  shall  breathe  freer,"  he 
said.  "  Anything  is  better  than  the  thought  of  your 
remaining  in  Dinant.  Such  things  as  you  need  gather 
quickly,  while  I  distract  Petite  Maman  and  the  others. 
The  quarter  of  an  hour  should  suffice  you,  and  in  that 
time  I  will  join  you  in  the  back  street.  Fly,  Agathe !  " 

With  that  he  hastily  embraced  her,  and  stood  watch- 
ing till  she  had  disappeared  across  the  hall  into  the 
other  room.  Then,  with  a  triumphant  air,  he  turned  and 
flung  open  the  kitchen  door.  Within,  it  was  as  dark 
as  a  pocket  save  for  the  feeble  ray  that  came  through 
the  door  behind  him,  and  the  dull  night-light  that  showed 
dim  through  the  window.  In  the  opening  of  the  latter 
he  made  out  the  figure  of  Petite  Maman. 

Ere  he  could  speak  she  hissed  a  sharp  warning  and 
crossed  softly  to  him,  her  hand  on  her  lips. 

"  The  devil  has  bewitched  this  house  to-night,"  she 
whispered,  "  for  now  some  other  is  prowling  about  the 
garden.  'Tis  for  that  I  put  out  the  light.  The  others 
are  watching  from  the  back  gate.  If  you  know  aught 

of  who  comes " 

268 


AT   THE   WIDOW   GALIOT'S 


"  Peace,  woman !  "  he  said  in  a  low  tone ;  "  I  came 
alone,  and  believe  that  none  other  knows  of  my  presence 
here.  You  are  sure  some  shadow  has  not  alarmed  you  ?  " 

"  Bah !  I  am  not  one  who  is  fearful  of  naught !  "  she 
muttered.  "  Come,  then,  yourself,  and  cast  your  gaze 
beyond  yonder  elm." 

So  saying,  she  drew  him  softly  to  the  window,  and 
even  as  she  did  so  a  thought  suddenly  struck  him. 
Might  not  the  Sieur  Giraud  have  discovered  this  house 
for  himself?  If  so,  he,  too,  would  so  reconnoitre  it  be- 
fore essaying  an  entrance. 

Monsieur  Vignolles  thrust  his  head  forth  quickly  and 
peered  into  the  gloom. 

On  the  instant  two  forms  rose  out  of  the  shrubs  be- 
neath the  ledge,  and  four  sinewy  hands  closed  about  his 
throat.  Without  a  sound  he  toppled  head-foremost  into 
the  garden,  and  four  others  coming  to  the  aid  of  the 
first  two,  he  was  quickly  gagged  and  then  borne  away. 

A  moment  one  of  his  captors  lingered  to  thrust  his 
head  through  the  window. 

"  Well  played,  Petite  Maman ! "  he  said  hoarsely. 
"  Faith,  I'm  not  sorry  I  saw  you  in  the  market-place  this 
morning,  for  this  Burgundian  is  worth  more  than  gold 
to  us,  once  Charlotel  takes  the  town.  Let  me  but  lay 
hands  on  the  other  in  the  same  fashion." 

"  I  know  naught  of  the  other,  Crepin,"  answered  the 
woman. 

"  Nor  do  I  now ;  but  I  will  ere  long,"  growled  Cre- 
pin, for  it  was  none  other,  "  and  he  it  is  I  must  have, 
since  Charlotel  would  give  his  hand  to  seize  him.  Things 
are  coming  to  a  head  here,  Petite  Maman.  To-night 
they  drove  Gaspard  Lenoir  from  the  town-hall — ay, 
and  would  have  had  his  life  had  they  caught  him,  think 
of  that!" 

269 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  And  why  that  ?  "  asked  the  woman. 

"  Because  he  told  them  to  make  peace ;  but  I've  no 
time  for  more,  woman.  You  know  where  word  will 
reach  me — at  Jacques  Rochet's,  where  you  sent  to- 
night. Let  me  know  if  you  hear  of  or  see  the  Sieur 
Giraud,  and  I'll  make  as  fine  a  lady  of  you  as  walks. 
Adieu! " 

With  that  he  melted  into  the  darkness,  and  Petite 
Maman  turned  to  rejoin  the  other  women  who  came  in 
from  the  garden. 

"  Small  use  did  I  ever  have  for  Crepin  Brune,"  she 
said;  "but  so  long  as  this  does  Marcelle  no  harm, 
methinks  'twill  prove  a  master-stroke  for  us.  If  any 
women  be  spared  by  Charlotel,  we'll  be  the  ones.  Cre- 
pin's  naught  to  please  the  eye;  but  he  looks  a  long  way 
ahead." 

With  which  shrewd  observation  the  others  agreed. 

Even  as  Monsieur  Vignolles  was  dragged  so  rudely 
from  the  window,  the  Lady  Agathe  came  from  her  room, 
bearing  a  small  bundle.  She  dreaded  going  forth  into 
the  streets,  and  feared  that  her  appearance  might  excite 
some  repulsive  curiosity.  Yet  it  was  but  a  short  dis- 
tance she  had  to  go,  and,  steadying  herself  with  this 
thought,  she  slipped  the  bolt  and  stood  listening  a  mo- 
ment to  assure  herself  that  she  was  not  observed.  She 
marvelled  somewhat  that  no  sound  of  voices  reached 
her  from  the  kitchen ;  but  ere  any  explanation  suggested 
itself,  the  door  suddenly  was  thrust  inward  upon  her, 
and  Marcelle  staggered  into  the  hall.  She  lurched  so 
that  the  Lady  Agathe,  dropping  her  bundle,  caught  her 
quickly  to  save  her  from  falling. 

"Marcelle,  what  has  befallen  you?"  she  cried,  and 
closed  the  door  again. 

In  truth,  there  was  reason  for  her  question,  for  in 
270 


AT  THE  WIDOW  GALIOT'S 


the  light  of  the  single  candle  which  shone  dimly  from 
the  adjoining  room,  Marcelle's  face  was  deathly  white, 
and  her  eyes  rolled  vacantly  in  their  sockets.  The  Lady 
Agathe  felt  her  own  gaze  shrink  as  Marcelle  spoke. 

"  It  was  as  I  came  through  the  gate — no,  it  was  in 
the  hills,  long  ago  that  seems,  and  I  almost  told  him  I 
loved  him,  and — and  then  that  other,  she  came — she 
was  always  between  us.  Then  he  would  have  killed 
some  one — no,  it  was  not  he,  but  no  matter,  I — I,  Mar- 
celle the  Mad,  gnawed  his  bow-string  so  that  naught 
came  of  it." 

"  Marcelle !  "  cried  the  Lady  Agathe,  trembling  with 
fear  of  the  other's  jumbled  words.  "  Marcelle,  calm 
yourself.  It  is  I,  Agathe,  who  listens." 

"  Agathe !  "  muttered  Marcelle  weakly.  "  That  was 
the  name  of  the  other  who  was  always  coming  between 
— and  afterward  there  was  a  great  fire — the  hilltops 
were  all  ablaze,  and  through  the  smoke  the  arrows  were 
falling  like  the  drops  of  rain." 

She  wrenched  herself  from  the  Lady  Agathe's  grasp, 
and  stood  swaying  to  and  fro  as  she  went  on  in  her 
horrible,  measured  tones: 

"  Like  rain  it  was ;  but  a  rain  that  bore  death  to  all 
it  touched — myself,  did  I  not  see  the  head  of  poor  Ul- 
rique  Cadet  leap  from  her  very  shoulders —  Ah,  'twas 
a  time  for  leaping — heads  were  leaping — the  hot  flames 
were  leaping — and — and  hearts  were  leaping.  But  'twas 
I  showed  him  the  spring  and  the  way  out — and — and 
because  of  that  he — he  asked  me  which  was  the — the 
true  Marcelle.  Ha!  Ha!  What  a  question  to  ask — 
to  ask  me!  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!" 

The  Lady  Agathe  recoiled  and  shuddered  at  the  aw- 
ful laugh. 

"That  was  at  the  gate,"  continued  Marcelle  almost 
271 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


in  a  whisper.  "  At  the  gate  as  we  stood  in  the  dark — 
with  none  near — he  asked  which  was  the  true  Marcelle 
— all  because — because  he — he  never  had  known  the  one. 
Ay,  that — that  was  it — he  never  had — had  known  the 
—the  one." 

As  she  ended  she  half  spun  round,  and  again  would 
have  fallen  but  for  the  Lady  Agathe's  arms.  And  now 
she  hung  so  limp  and  heavy  that  the  Lady  Agathe  per- 
ceived that  her  shattered  senses  had  left  her.  With  a 
sigh,  she  bore  her  to  her  own  bed  and  gently  laid  her 
down,  and  as  she  did  so  saw  the  great  swollen  bruise 
upon  the  side  of  Marcelle's  head.  Wa*s  she  dead?  No;  a 
feeble  flutter  still  met  the  Lady  Agathe's  searching  hand. 

What  to  do  ? 

The  Lady  Agathe  was  torn  by  conflicting  emotions. 
Here  was  this  girl  to  whom  she  owed  much,  even  life, 
stricken,  as  she  believed,  to  death.  How  could  she  leave 
her?  Yet,  yonder  behind  the  garden  wall,  the  man  she 
loved  waited  for  her  to  come  to  him.  Did  she  summon 
the  women,  all  hope  of  her  escaping  must  for  a  time  be 
lost,  and  time  might  mean  everything.  But  with  what 
heart  could  she  steal  away  to  leave  Marcelle  to  die 
from  lack  of  care?  If  the  girl  had  deceived  her,  she 
knew  now  why  it  had  been,  and  pitied  rather  than  cen- 
sured her  for  it.  Well  she  knew  the  horrors  of  re- 
maining in  this  town,  and  she  shuddered  at  the  thought 
of  again  encountering  the  Count  de  Charolais,  while, 
without  in  the  street,  safety,  happiness,  and  the  idol  of 
her  heart  were  calling  her  to  come. 

She  looked  at  the  frail,  unconscious  figure  before  her, 
pallid  and  cold  to  the  very  finger-tips. 

The  next  instant  she  glided  into  the  hall  and  throw- 
ing her  bundle  under  the  bed,  went  swiftly  to  the  kitchen 
door  and  flung  it  open. 

272 


AT  THE  WIDOW  GALIOTS 


"  Petite  Maman,"  she  said,  "  and  you,  Bonne,  come 
quickly!  Marcelle  has  met  with  an  accident  and  is  ill 
nigh  unto  death,  methinks.  Come !  " 

Thus  did  the  Lady  Agathe  cast  aside  love,  happiness, 
and  safety  for  what  she  deemed  her  duty. 

Had  Monsieur  Vignolles,  in  truth,  awaited  her,  as  she 
believed,  would  his  love  for  her  have  been  lessened  by 
the  choice  she  made? 


273 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

ON   THE   OTHER   SIDE   OF   THE   DOOR 

FOR  some  time  after  the  shock  of  their  encounter 
in  the  street  behind  the  town-hall  the  Sieur 
Giraud  and  Tite  devoted  themselves  to  search- 
ing for  some  trace  of  Monsieur  Vignolles  in  the 
rapidly  thinning  crowd.  But  this  night  few  among  that 
shouting  multitude  had  thought  for  any  affair  save  the 
one  they  had  just  witnessed,  and  still  fewer  were  those 
who  stayed  to  vouchsafe  them  any  answer  to  their 
queries. 

At  length,  fagged  and  discouraged,  the  two  drew  up 
in  one  of  the  by-streets,  and  bitterly  both  did  curse  the 
remissness  which  had  resulted  in  their  being  too  late  to 
see  the  throng  before  its  breaking  up.  Yet,  after  all,  it 
was  possible  that  Monsieur  Vignolles  had  made  no  part 
of  it,  and  the  more  the  Sieur  Giraud  pondered  upon  this 
the  more  certain  he  became  that  such  was  true. 

"  Tis  folly  to  carry  our  search  farther,  Tite,"  he 
said.  "  I  make  no  more  doubt  the  man  has  been  foully 
dealt  with.  An  unmindful  wag  of  his  tongue,  and  there 
are  many  in  this  town  who  would  do  him  to  death  for  the 
very  allegiance  he  once  held  to  the  House  of  Burgundy. 
Ay,  'tis  that  has  befallen  him,  methinks,  for  the  man  is 
over-given  to  speech  and  thinks  little  beforehand  of  what 
he  says." 

But  Tite  shook  his  head. 

"  Nay,  for  in  such  case  the  whole  town  would  know 
of  it,"  he  answered.  "  Burgundians  are  not  so  plenty  in 

274 


ON  THE  OTHER  SIDE  OF  THE  DOOR 

Dinant  that  the  taking  of  one  could  pass  unheeded. 
Monsieur  may  have  met  with  foul  play ;  but,  if  so,  it  has 
been  without  discovery  of  his  identity  being  made." 

He  turned  and,  the  Sieur  Giraud  following  him,  the 
two  made  their  way  slowly  back  to  Madame  Vaucler's, 
the  mind  of  each  busy  trying  to  frame  some  hypothesis 
which  would  explain  this  sudden  disappearance. 

At  length  the  Sieur  Giraud  spoke  quickly. 

"  Tite,  saw  you  that  knave,  Crepin,  in  the  crowd  be- 
hind the  town-hall  ? " 

Tite  almost  stopped  in  his  walk. 

"  Crepin  Brune  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Nay,  I  saw  naught  of 
the  rogue.  Curse  him ;  I  made  note,  though,  that  he  took 
good  care  to  be  away  from  camp  when  the  others  came 
at  us." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  thought  that  he  might  enlighten 
Tite  as  to  the  cause  of  such  absence,  but  refrained  from 
doing  so.  Such  explanation  would  involve  telling  of  the 
attempt  upon  Count  Charles,  and  Tite's  hatred  for  the 
latter  was  too  deep  to  make  such  tale  advisable.  At  least, 
so  the  other  thought. 

"  Some  devilry's  been  afoot  these  many  days  and 
Crepin  has  had  a  hand  in  it,  I'll  be  sworn,"  went  on  Tite. 
"  Myself,  I  once  saw  him  meet  a  stranger  who  came  by 
horse  yonder  in  the  hills,  and  he's  been  away  from  camp 
too  much  for  any  fair  purpose,  since  ne'er  did  he  bring  in 
aught  whereby  our  pockets  or  bellies  were  the  better 
filled." 

"  Such  as  the  purse  and  velvets  of  the  bishop's  mes- 
senger, Tite,  to  say  naught  of  the  horses  ?  "  asked  the 
Sieur  Giraud  and  laughed ;  for  there  was  much  that  was 
humourous  to  him  in  the  old  man's  system  of  ethics 
whereby  a  "  fair  purpose  "  was  betokened  by  the  pro- 
ceeds of  brigandage. 

275 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  If  a  man's  a  man,  he  works  for  them  that  work  for 
him,"  answered  Tite  drily.  "  But,  however  that  may  be, 
if  this  Crepin  has  found  his  way  here,  do  you  have  a  care 
lest  he  lay  eyes  upon  you,  for,  by  my  faith,  the  whelp 
would  expose  you  for  the  mere  sport  of  seeing  your  head 
on  a  pike!  Moreover,  he's  had  no  liking  for  you  since 
the  first  day  you  came  to  the  camp.  This  I  tell  you  be- 
cause, for  one  thing,  methinks  Marcelle  would  have  no 
harm  come  to  you,  and  for  another,  because  'tis  not  fit 
that  any  man  should  die  of  a  cur's  bite." 

"  A  thousand  thanks  for  the  warning,  Tite,"  said  the 
Sieur  Giraud,  "but  as  it  chances  the  affair  will  not  be 
one-sided,  for  if  Crepin  would  deliver  me  over  as  a  Bur- 
gundian,  so  would  I  run  him  through  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity. And  this  with  good  reason,  though  I  may  tell 
you  no  more." 

"  The  odds  are  against  your  doing  aught  against 
Crepin  here  in  Dinant,"  said  Tite  as  they  mounted  the 
steps  of  their  lodgings,  "  yet,  by  St.  Hubert,  ne'er  would 
I  stand  in  the  way  of  such  essay !  " 

So  saying  he  pounded  on  the  door  till  Madame  Vau- 
cler  unbarred  it  and  gave  them  entrance. 

From  her  they  learned  that  Poncet,  having  found 
quarters  for  his  parents,  had  sent  word  that  he  would 
pass  the  night  with  them.  Should  he  be  wanted,  they 
were  to  send  word  to  the  address  he  gave. 

Without  more  ado  the  two  entered  their  room  and 
cast  themselves  down  to  sleep,  the  Sieur  Giraud  on  the 
bed  and  Tite  on  the  floor.  Yet  sleep  was  strangely  slow 
in  coming  to  them.  That  this  should  be  so  in  his  own 
case  was  no  matter  for  wonder  to  the  Sieur  Giraud,  for 
his  mind  was  filled  with  thoughts  of  the  day's  ill-luck — 
the  disappearance  of  Monsieur  Vignolles  and,  above  all, 
the  utter  absence  of  clew  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  the 

276 


ON   THE  OTHER  SIDE  OF  THE  DOOR 

Lady  Agathe.  But  why  Tite  should  find  slumber  so  re- 
luctant to  indulge  him  was  matter  for  some  wonder  for 
of  ordinary  the  man  became  as  one  dead  the  moment  his 
head  came  to  rest.  Also,  each  time  the  Sieur  Giraud 
chanced  to  turn,  he  caught  the  eye  of  Tite  fixed  upon 
him  from  beneath  his  blankets,  and  then  his  swift-fol- 
lowing half-pretence  of  sleep.  Of  a  truth,  something 
more  than  mere  restlessness  was  keeping  the  old  man 
awake.  Was  it  that  he  meditated  some  move  when  the 
other  should  be  asleep?  The  Sieur  Giraud  determined 
to  ascertain  and  to  that  end  yawned  heavily  and  settled 
into  an  attitude  of  drowsy  comfort.  In  a  few  moments 
his  deep,  regular  breathing  penetrated  to  every  corner  of 
the  room. 

He  had  not  been  wrong  in  his  conjecture,  for,  after 
waiting  a  short  time,  Tite  rose  stealthily  from  his  cover- 
ings and  stole  softly  from  the  room.  A  moment  later 
the  slow  creaking  of  the  outer  door  told  of  his  departure 
into  the  street. 

Elated  at  the  success  of  his  ruse,  the  Sieur  Giraud 
only  stayed  to  throw  on  his  sword  and  then  followed 
noiselessly.  Whatever  Tite  might  be  planning,  whether 
for  his  good  or  otherwise,  he  meant  to  know.  As  he 
thrust  his  head  cautiously  from  the  door,  he  saw  the 
figure  of  Tite  disappear  round  the  next  corner.  There 
was  no  time  to  be  lost.  Hastily  he  closed  the  door  be- 
hind him  and  made  after  Tite  with  all  speed. 

The  streets  were  no  longer  crowded,  yet  enough  were 
still  abroad  to  render  his  chances  against  detection,  at 
all  events,  even.  Yet  their  very  numbers  were  favour- 
able to  Tite's  eluding  his  eye  as  he  shot  around  some 
corner  ahead.  Therefore,  the  Sieur  Giraud  was  forced 
to  close  up  the  space  between  them,  and  so,  by  many 
twistings  through  the  town,  they  progressed  till  Tite  sud- 

277 


denly  stopped  before  a  house  and  warily  looked  round. 
The  Sieur  Giraud,  scarce  two-score  paces  behind  him, 
dodged  behind  a  tree  in  the  nick  of  time. 

Having  apparently  assured  himself  that  all  was  well, 
Tite  thrust  open  the  gate  before  the  house  and  rapidly 
strode  to  the  door,  on  which  he  sounded  lightly.  A 
shaft  of  light  for  a  moment  fell  into  the  street  as  the 
door  was  opened  in  answer  and  then  was  blotted  out 
as  quickly. 

There  being  no  further  need  for  such  caution  as  he 
had  till  now  used,  the  Sieur  Giraud  ran  to  the  gate  and 
examined  the  front  of  the  house. 

Shutters  before  the  two  windows  kept  all  light  within 
save  what  might  sift  through  the  tiny  chinks  at  the  sides. 
Naught  could  he  learn  of  the  interior  here,  and  he 
hastened  round  to  the  back ;  but  here,  also,  shutters  had 
been  put  up  for  the  night  and  he  might  gain  no  enlighten- 
ment as  to  the  character  of  the  place.  Nor  could  he  on 
either  side  hear  any  sound  of  voices  from  within.  A 
short  time  he  stood  undecided,  then  quickly  returned  to 
the  front  door,  slipping  his  sword  free  in  its  sheath  as 
he  mounted  the  two  low  steps.  The  next  moment  he 
knocked  softly  as  Tite  had  done. 

The  sound  of  footsteps  crossing  the  floor  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  unbolting  of  the  door.  As  it  started  to 
open,  the  Sieur  Giraud  thrust  his  foot  within,  and,  de- 
spite the  resistance  offered,  followed  with  the  rest  of  his 
body. 

A  low  growl  broke  from  the  one  who  had  answered 
his  knock.  It  was  none  other  than  Tite  himself,  and  the 
Sieur  Giraud's  hand  left  his  hilt. 

"  What  devil's  contrivance  brings  you  here  ?  "  cried 
the  old  man  hotly. 

"  No  devil's  contrivance,  but  the  proper  desire  any 
278 


ON   THE   OTHER   SIDE  OF   THE   DOOR 

man  may  have  to  know  what's  afoot  when  whatever  that 
is  may  concern  his  life,"  answered  the  Sieur  Giraud 
coolly.  "  What  is  this  new  game  you  play,  Tite  ?  " 

"  Tis  no  affair  of  yours ;  therefore,  get  you  gone 
and " 

At  that  instant  the  Sieur  Giraud  heard  some  one  ap- 
proaching the  door  on  his  right,  and  again  his  hand 
sought  his  sword.  Tite  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  dis- 
gust as  the  door  flew  open  and  the  Lady  Agathe  stood 
before  them. 

"  My  lady !  "  cried  the  Sieur  Giraud,  and  then  whirled 
upon  Tite.  "  So,  all  the  time  you  have  known  where  my 
Lady  Agathe  was,  you  gray  fox  ?  " 

Tite  ignored  the  question.  He  was  chagrined  at  the 
failure  of  his  manoeuvre  and  sulked ;  but  the  Lady  Agathe 
spoke  quickly. 

"  Yes,  he  has  known ;  but  there  is  no  time  to  discuss 
that.  I  have  not  yet  heard  what  brings  him  here,  save 
that  'tis  something  concerning  Monsieur  Vignolles  which 
I  would  hear.  Therefore,  enter;  but  tread  lightly,  for 
Marcelle  has  but  now  fallen  into  a  doze." 

As  she  spoke  the  strokes  of  the  clock  in  the  distant 
town-hall  counted  the  hour  of  eleven. 

"  Marcelle !  "  exclaimed  both  of  the  men,  and  Tite 
added,  "  She  is  then  returned  ?  " 

"  Ay,  some  two  hours  since,"  answered  the  Lady 
Agathe,  leading  them  into  the  room  and  softly  closing 
the  door,  "  and  wounded  nigh  to  death,  methought  at 
first ;  but  the  leech  has  seen  her  and  says  all  will  be  well 
if  she  be  kept  quiet.  'Tis  a  cruel  blow  she  has  received 
on  the  head,  and  at  first  she  raved  therefrom;  but  now 
she  has  her  senses." 

"  And  what  says  she  of  this  mishap  ? "  asked  the 
Sieur  Giraud. 

279 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"  I  have  learned  naught  of  it,  for  the  leech  forbade  all 
talk  to  her  and  gave  her  some  potion  that  was  to  bring 
sleep  upon  her,"  was  the  answer.  "  But  'tis  clear  she 
has  met  with  this  blow  somewhere  in  the  hills  whither 
she  would  go  this  day." 

"  A  thousand  curses  on  my  head  that  I  went  not 
after  her  as  I  was  minded  to !  "  cried  Tite. 

As  for  the  Sieur  Giraud,  he  was  torn  by  two  emo- 
tions, one  the  horror  this  news  gave  him  and  the  other 
the  wonderment  he  felt  at  seeing  the  Lady  Agathe  now 
treat  him  on  the  old  footing,  and  as  though  naught  ever 
had  come  between  them.  But  before  he  might  find  any 
answer  to  this  last,  she  spoke  quickly : 

"  Yet  come ;  I  may  not  stay  from  Marcelle  long. 
You  come  here  for  some  news  of  Monsieur  Vignolles, 
methinks  you  said.  Has  he,  then,  not  returned  to  your 
quarters  ?  " 

"  No,  my  lady,"  answered  the  Sieur  Giraud,  and  now 
he  understood  the  meaning  of  Tite's  nocturnal  expedi- 
tion; it  had  been  to  find  some  trace  of  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles; and  he  cast  aside  all  further  suspicion  of  this 
grim  old  man.  "  Yet  you  speak  of  his  returning,  my 
lady.  So  you  knew  of  his  absence?" 

"  Yes,  since  he  was  here  just  before  Marcelle  re- 
turned," she  answered,  a  slight  wave  of  colour  rising 
to  her  face. 

"Here!"  they  cried. 

"  Yes ;  he  followed  Petite  Maman  home  from  the 
market-place  this  noon  and  watched  the  house  till 
nightfall.  He  spoke  of  the. dangers  of  my  remaining 
here,  and- 1  .promised  to  leave  the  town.  He  was  to 
await  me  in  the  street  behind  the  house,  and  then  we 
were  to  search  for  you,  but  that  was  nearly  two  hours 
ago.  Surely  he'd  not  wait  that  time;  yet  had  naught 

280 


ON   THE  OTHER  SIDE  OF  THE   DOOR 

befallen  him,  he  would  have  come  to  learn  why  I  did 
not  join  him." 

As  she  had  grasped  what  his  disappearance  might 
mean,  her  face  had  gone  ashy  white,  and  she  held  her 
hands  toward  them  as  though  imploring  them  for 
their  aid. 

But  the  Sieur  Giraud  was  more  concerned  at  the 
free  way  she  had  spoken,  and  turned  on  Tite. 

"  Tite,"  he  said,  "  you've  heard  what  my  lady  never 
would  have  said  before  you  had  she  not  been  so  dis- 
tressed. That  you  have  no  hand  in  whatever  trouble 
has  overtaken  Monsieur  Vignolles,  I  know  full  well; 
but  you  might  be  disposed  to  take  a  hand  in  preventing 
his  leaving  Dinant.  Once  for  all,  let  us  understand 
each  other.  Is  it  to  be  above-board  between  us,  or  will 
you  use  what  you  have  heard  against  not  only  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles,  but  the  Lady  Agathe  as  well? " 

Tite  glared  doggedly  at  him  and  for  a  moment 
stood  kicking  one  foot  against  the  other;  then  he  said 
shortly : 

"  Could  I  see  Marcelle  I'd  give  you  your  answer 
straight  enough,  for  whatever  she  said  would  be  my 
work.  But  if  I've  to  fight  it  out  alone,  by  my  faith  I'll 
set  naught  in  your  way,  for,  myself,  I  came  here  think- 
ing chance  might  have  led  monsieur  hither.  More- 
over, I've  no  liking  for  opposing  any  lady,  save  'tis 
needful." 

The  Sieur  Giraud  made  no  reply,  but  seized  his  hand 
and  gripped  it  hard.  Tite  wrenched  himself  free  and 
turned  to  the  Lady  Agathe. 

"  There  is  good  ground  for  your  fears,  my  lady,"  he 
said  bluntly.  "  By  which  door  did  monsieur  leave  the 
house?  " 

"  By  the  garden  door,  methinks,  for  'twas  his  plan 
281 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


to  engage  Petite  Marxian  and  the  others  while  I  slipped 
out  by  the  front." 

"Ah!  Petite  Maman!"  said  the  old  man  quickly. 
"  I  hear  her  voice  above  the  others  in  the  kitchen  now. 
Do  you  bide  here  awhile;  we  shall  see  what  she  may 
know  of  this  affair.  Time  was  when  Petite  Maman  had 
few  secrets  from  old  Tite." 

With  that  he  quickly  crossed  the  room  and  entered 
the  kitchen,  closing  the  door  behind  him.  The  burst 
of  welcome  that  greeted  his  entrance  fell  upon  the  ears 
of  those  he  left  behind. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  turned  to  the  Lady  Agathe. 

"  You  have  heard,  my  lady,  that  I  am  not  guilty  of 
all  you  held  against  me,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  she  answered;  "Monsieur  Vignolles  made 
me  aware  how  I  had  been  imposed  upon." 

In  the  adjoining  room  a  little,  wild-eyed  figure  sud- 
denly lurched  rather  than  rose  to  a  sitting  posture  in 
bed,  then,  letting  its  feet  to  the  floor,  felt  its  way  along 
the  bedside  to  the  door.  None  would  have  seen  in  this 
shattered,  trembling  form  that  Marcelle  who  had  ruled 
over  a  part  of  the  Ardennes.  The  pallor  of  weakness 
and  the  agony  of  suffering  were  stamped  heavily  upon 
her  face,  yet  she  managed  to  open  the  door,  and  stole 
softly  into  the  hall,  where  she  laid  her  ear  against  the 
other  door. 

For  as  she  had  lain  in  that  borderland  between  con- 
sciousness and  insensibility  with  the  potent  effects  of 
the  drug  fighting  against  the  mad  activity  of  her  mind, 
it  had  seemed  to  her  that  from  somewhere  his  voice  had 
reached  her  ears.  In  a  confused  fashion  she  had  tried 
to  reason  this  away  as  being  impossible,  yet  her  head 
had  roared  loudly  that  it  was  so,  till  by  main  force  of 
will  she  had  resolved  to  know.  When  'twas  done,  had 

282 


ON   THE   OTHER  SIDE  OF  THE  DOOR 

one  asked  how  she  had  come  into  that  hall,  she  might 
not  have  told,  yet,  half-dazed  though  she  was,  her 
senses  were  preternaturally  acute  and  on  edge. 

"  Alas,  Sieur  Giraud,"  went  on  the  Lady  Agathe, 
little  dreaming  of  this  second  listener,  "  what  may  I 
say,  what  may  I  do  to  condone  my  overreadiness  to 
believe  such  things  of  you?" 

"  Speak  not  of  that,  my  lady,  since  'tis  now  all  a 
part  of  the  past,"  he  answered.  "  Enough  it  is  and 
more  to  know  that  once  again  I  may  enjoy  such  esteem 
as  your  kindness  before  allowed  me." 

He  knelt,  and  taking  her  hand,  kissed  it  very  gent- 
ly, but  his  kiss  had  naught  in  it  save  the  mark  of  high 
regard,  which  any  man  may  pay  a  lady  with  never  a 
further  thought. 

Yet  at  the  sound  the  kneeling  figure  without  trem- 
bled violently,  and  sought  support  against  the  door- 
frame. 

"  The  evidence  of  all  your  senses  was  against  me, 
my  lady,"  he  went  on,  rising,  "  and  had  I  been  what 
you  deemed  me,  God  knows  your  action  was  only  what 
would  have  become  you  above  all  others.  It  is  ended; 
therefore  let  us  both  try  to  forget  what  to  me  at  least 
has  been  the  worst  passage  of  life." 

"  As  it  has  to  me,  I  do  assure  you,  Sieur  Giraud," 
answered  the  Lady  Agathe  gently. 

Marcelle  could  bear  no  more.  It  had  come  in  spite 
of  all  that  she  had  done — this  meeting,  this  return  to 
what  had  been  before  between  these  two.  For  in  the 
simple  words  she  had  heard  she  thought  to  read  only 
the  quickening  of  an  oppressed  love,  and  the  kiss  was 
to  her  but  the  seal  they  had  set  thereto.  Alas!  had  her 
straining  gaze  but  been  able  to  penetrate  that  thin  width 
of  wood  before  her,  her  eyes  would  have  given  the  lie 
19  283 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


to  such  thoughts.  Had  she  but  waited  another  mo- 
ment her  ears  would  have  heard  that  which  would  have 
set  her  fluttering  little  heart  leaping  for  joy.  But  no; 
she  had  given  up  the  fight.  Defeated,  disconsolate,  and 
sick  at  heart,  she  rose  and  staggered  back  to  the  bed 
she  had  left.  She  had  not  been  wrong.  It  had  been  his 
voice  that  she  had  heard.  O  God! 

"  Let  us  then  speak  of  what  concerns  us  now,  my 
lady,"  said  the  Sieur  Giraud.  "  You  were  to  meet  Mon- 
sieur Vignolles  in  the  street  behind  the  house,  you  say. 
Yet  it  appears  that  you  did  not  go  there." 

"No,"  she  answered;  "for  even  as  I  was  leaving 
the  house,  Marcelle  came  reeling  in  upon  me." 

"  And  you  stayed  to  care  for  her,  my  lady !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Methinks  ne'er  did  I  hear  of  nobler  deed, 
for  Marcelle  had  wofully  misled  you." 

"  Yet  she  had  saved  my  life,  Sieur  Giraud,"  she  an- 
swered, "  and,  withal,  methinks  I  see  some  reason  for 
the  strange  course  she  has  taken." 

As  she  said  this  she  looked  at  him  closely,  but  he 
merely  shook  his  head  as  he  replied: 

"  You  are  discerning,  my  lady,  for,  as  for  myself,  I 
have  given  o'er  trying  to  know  Marcelle's  nature.  One 
moment  it  has  the  cold,  forbidding  aspect  of  a  winter's 
day  that  chills  with  its  very  sight;  the  next,  it  is  all 
sunshine  and  warmth  and  gladsomeness,  that  draws  one 
to  her  with  its  very  glow.  At  such  times  one  forgets 
her  other  side,  for  then  she  is  not  merely  good,  my  lady 
— not  merely  pleasing — she  is  ador " 

The  rest  of  what  he  would  have  said  was  cut  off  by 
the  hurried  entrance  of  Tite,  and  by  his  face  they  knew 
that  he  bore  news  of  moment. 

"  Come  into  the  hall,"  he  said,  leading  the  way 
thither.  "  Faith,  the  wenches  have  got  liquor  from 

284 


ON   THE   OTHER   SIDE   OF   THE   DOOR 

somewhere,  and  they're  too  busy  with  it  to  have  eye 
or  ear  for  us,  but  'tis  best  to  take  no  chances." 

A  burst  of  hilarity  from  the  kitchen  arose  to  cor- 
roborate his  statement. 

Tite  turned  to  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  Not  far  wrong  were  you  in  thinking  to  have  seen 
Crepin  Brune,"  he  said,  "  for  'tis  none  other  than  that 
knave  who  has  made  off  with  monsieur." 

The  Lady  Agathe  gasped,  and  clutched  at  the  door 
to  steady  herself. 

"  They  will  kill  him !  "  she  cried. 

"  No ;  'tis  not  their  game,"  answered  Tite.  "  What 
with  the  liquor  they'd  had  yonder  and  a  little  palaver, 
Petite  Maman  gave  me  the  whole  tale.  'Tis  their  plan 
to  hold  him  so  that,  should  the  Burgundians  take  the 
town,  they'll  have  a  hostage  for  their  own  safety.  Ah, 
that  Crepin  is  slyer  than  ten  ordinary  men!  They  took 
monsieur  in  that  very  kitchen." 

"  And  where  have  they  taken  him  ?  " 

"  Petite  Maman  was  not  sure,  but  thought  'twas 
to  the  house  of  that  Jacques  Rochet  I  had  some  words 
with  this  noon.  He  lives  next  door  to  the  inn  where 
we  saw  him." 

"Then  the  devil  seize  me  if  they  shall  not  be  upset 
in  their  calculations !  "  cried  the  Sieur  Giraud,  and  added 
quickly,  "But  where  go  you,  Tite?"  for  the  old  man 
had  opened  the  door. 

"  To  arm  myself — faith,  not  with  such  sword  as  you 
wear,  for  'twould  get  between  my  legs  with  every  step 
I  took.  I  know  where  to  find  such  tool  as  I  may  swing 
in  comfort.  If  they've  taken  monsieur  to  Rochet's 
there'll  be  no  small  party  of  them  there." 

The  Lady  Agathe  took  a  quick  step  forward. 

"  Then  you  will  help  release  Monsieur  Vignolles ; 
285 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


you,  Tite  ?  "  she  asked,  and  held  the  old  man's  look  with 
hers. 

"  Since  'tis  to  put  a  spoke  in  Crepin's  wheel,  no  fear 
but  that  I  will,  my  lady,"  he  answered. 

"  It  means  all  the  world  to  me,  Tite,"  she  said  softly, 
while  the  Sieur  Giraud  opened  the  door  and  looked  up 
and  down  the  street. 

He  looked  at  her  sharply. 

"  We'll  do  more  for  knowing  that,  my  lady,"  he  said ; 
and  with  that  the  Lady  Agathe  leaned  suddenly  forward 
and,  fine  lady  that  she  was,  seized  his  rough  hand  and 
touched  her  lips  to  it,  ere  he  might  divine  her  intention. 

A  moment  he  stood  rooted  to  the  spot;  then  rushed 
from  the  house. 

At  the  gateway  he  paused  and  delivered  a  brief  so- 
liloquy : 

"  To  think  of  that  coming  to  me  at  three-score-and- 
five!  By  St.  Hubert,  we  shall  see,  Crepin;  we  shall 
see!" 

The  Sieur  Giraud  turned  to  say  his  adieu  and  found 
that  the  Lady  Agathe  had  opened  the  other  door  leading 
from  the  hall  and  was  looking  within.  She  turned  and 
laid  a  finger  on  her  lips. 

"  It  is  Marcelle  ?  "  he  whispered. 

She  nodded,  and  then  something  in  the  man's  face 
made  her  beckon  him  to  her. 

For  an  instant  he  saw  the  drawn,  pallid  face  and 
the  mass  of  tumbled,  raven  locks  that  fell  about  it  on 
the  pillow.  Then  the  Lady  Agathe  closed  the  door 
softly,  for,  at  last,  the  leech's  herbs  had  taken  effect  and 
Marcelle  slept. 

Something  seemed  to  be  gripping  his  heart,  and  his 
own  face  reflected  some  of  that  haggard  look  he  had 
seen. 

286 


ON   THE   OTHER   SIDE  OF   THE   DOOR 

"  Poor  child !  Take  all  care  of  her,  my  lady !  "  he 
said  hoarsely,  and  wrung  her  hand. 

Then  he  ran  down  the  steps,  and  joining  Tite  the 
two  set  forth  hotfoot  for  the  house  of  Jacques  Rochet. 

There  were  few  by-ways  of  Dinant  that  were  un- 
known to  Tite ;  therefore,  it  was  no  very  long  matter 
before  they  stood  before  the  house.  The  Sieur  Giraud 
was  for  entering  at  once;  but  Tite  reminded  him  that 
within  were  probably  many  they  would  have  to  fight, 
and  that  he  was  unarmed,  save  for  the  knife  at  his  belt. 
Bidding  the  Sieur  Giraud  await  his  return,  he  strode 
quickly  up  the  street,  promising  that  his  absence  should 
be  short.  Meanwhile,  the  Sieur  Giraud  was  to  watch  the 
house  for  any  sign  of  life  within,  and  to  search  about 
for  some  means  of  entrance. 

With  this  latter  in  view  the  Sieur  Giraud  crossed 
the  street  and  leaped  the  fence  of  the  adjoining  house. 
Running  rapidly  around  it  into  the  garden  behind,  he 
scaled  the  dividing  wall  and  found  himself  almost  at 
Rochet's  back  door.  This  precaution  he  had  used  be- 
cause of  the  lights  that  shone  through  the  windows  in 
front,  telling  that  the  inmates  were  still  astir  and,  per- 
chance, on  the  alert.  He  examined  the  windows  care- 
fully and  judged  that  with  Tite's  help  he  might  force 
one  of  them;  and  then  some  strange  chance  led  him  to 
the  door,  and  he  stopped  to  test  its  strength.  To  his 
great  surprise  it  flew  open  under  his  shoulder,  and  he 
was  put  to  it  to  prevent  its  crashing  against  the  wall 
behind.  Within  all  was  dark,  save  for  the  light  that 
came  through  the  chink  of  a  door  at  the  far  end  of  the 
passage. 

He  paused  irresolute.  Should  he  go  on,  or  wait  for 
Tite  ?  A  moment  only  he  hesitated ;  then  the  great  long- 
ing to  see  what  was  on  the  other  side  of  that  door  over- 

287 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


came  him  and,  drawing  his  sword,  he  stole  silently 
along  the  hall,  and  applied  his  eye  to  the  crevice. 

What  he  saw  wellnigh  brought  a  cry  from  his  lips, 
for  straight  in  the  line  of  his  vision  sat  Crepin  Brune. 
On  a  table  before  him  lay  Monsieur  Vignolles's  sword- 
belt  and  sheath,  and  the  blade  itself  Crepin  was  ex- 
amining with  critical  satisfaction  under  the  light  of  a 
candle.  Though  the  Sieur  Giraud  could  see  no  more  of 
the  room,  he  was  sure  from  the  silence  that  Crepin  was 
alone.  Nor,  in  truth,  was  there  any  reason  why  he 
should  fear  any  meddling  with  his  plans,  since  he  be- 
lieved there  was  none  who  could  by  chance  discover 
them. 

In  a  flash,  all  thought  of  Tite  fled  from  the  other, 
for  the  sight  of  this  man  brought  a  great  rage  upon  the 
Sieur  Giraud.  Softly  he  felt  for  the  catch  of  the  door, 
and  raising  it  noiselessly,  pushed  with  his  knee  till  he 
found  the  door  to  give.  Then,  abandoning  all  attempt  at 
further  stealth,  he  thrust  it  open  quickly  and  entered, 
closing  and  bolting  it  behind  him. 

Crepin  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  sharp  cry,  and  thrust 
the  table  before  him. 

"  Another  sound  like  that  and  'twill  be  your  last ! " 
said  the  Sieur  Giraud,  and  shot  a  glance  about  the 
room. 

Another  door  leading  to  the  front  hall  met  his  eye, 
and  noting  that  the  bolt  was  drawn,  he  quickly  crossed 
the  room  and  shot  it  home. 

"  Now,  you  scurvy  rogue,  we  may  speak  alone,"  he 
said,  turning  to  Crepin.  "  First  drop  that  sword  your 
clumsy  touch  is  defiling —  Ah !  Would  you  ?  " 

He  leaped  forward,  and  with  a  savage  lunge  ran  his 
blade  beneath  the  one  Crepin  had  thought  to  use  against 
him.  With  a  jerk  of  his  wrist,  it  went  hurtling  to  the 

288 


ON   THE   OTHER   SIDE   OF  THE   DOOR 

floor,  and,  before  the  man  might  move,  the  Sieur  Gi- 
raud's  point  was  against  his  jerkin. 

"And  pity  'tis  that  it  may  not  be  now,"  said  the 
Sieur  Giraud ;  "  but  first,  Master  Crepin,  I  have  use  for 
you.  Where  is  Monsieur  Vignolles,  you  knave  ?  " 

Crepin  wilted  and  sank  limply  into  the  chair  he  had 
occupied. 

"  In  the  cellar,"  he  answered  sullenly. 

"  Is  it  so?  "  cried  the  Sieur  Giraud.  "  Then  do  you 
take  the  candle  and  we  shall  soon  have  him  out — and 
move  when  I  speak  to  you,  lest  I  run  you  through  first 
and  visit  the  cellar  afterward." 

"If  I  give  him  up  I  go  free,  eh?"  whined  Crepin, 
picking  up  the  candle. 

"  If  you  give  him  up  'tis  because  'tis  forced  on  you!  " 
cried  the  Sieur  Giraud.  "  Moreover,  you  forget  our 
own  little  account,  Master  Crepin.  If  I  spared  you,  I'd 
hate  myself  the  rest  of  my  life.  A  few  moments  more 
you  have,  though ;  so  put  them  to  profit.  Lead  on ! 
You  may  say  such  prayers  as  you  know  on  the  way ;  for 
'twill  save  time  later." 

With  that  he  drove  the  cowering  wretch  ahead  of 
him  toward  the  door  through  which  he  had  entered. 

But  even  as  Crepin  laid  his  hand  upon  the  bolt, 
loud  laughter  and  the  tramp  of  many  steps  rang  through 
the  passage  without.  With  a  mad  shriek  of  joy,  Crepin 
shot  back  the  bolt  and,  bawling  lustily  for  aid,  dodged 
nimbly  to  one  side  ere  the  Sieur  Giraud  recovered  from 
his  surprise. 

But  his  joy  was  premature,  for,  with  a  bound,  the 
Sieur  Giraud  sprang  upon  him  and,  keeping  his  blade 
toward  the  door,  caught  him  with  one  hand  by  the  neck 
and  dashed  his  head  against  the  wall  with  awful  force. 
He  sank  in  a  huddled  heap ;  but  his  work  had  not  been 

289 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


futile,  for  even  as  he  fell  the  others  came  pouring 
through  the  door.  They  had  left  Crepin  but  a  half-hour 
before  to  go  to  the  inn  for  drink. 

A  half  dozen  sturdy  rogues  they  were,  two  wearing 
swords  and  the  rest  armed  with  clubs  and  knives. 
Jacques  Rochet  himself  was  at  their  head. 

"  Ha !  "  he  roared,  "  the  other  Burgundian  as  I  live ; 
the  same  that  was  with  Tite  this  day  at  the  inn,  and  I 
knew  him  not !  By  God,  Tite  shall  pay  for  the  company 
he  keeps !  Lay  at  him,  comrades !  " 

But  the  Sieur  Giraud  had  no  intention  of  being 
butchered  by  these  thieves ;  nor  did  he  wait  for  their 
onset.  Snatching  up  the  chair,  he  hurled  it  full  at 
Rochet's  head  and  was  rejoiced  to  see  the  blood  come 
streaming  from  his  mark.  Yet  he  paused  not,  but  fol- 
lowing up  his  lead,  set  upon  the  man  nearest  him  and 
ran  him  through  ere  the  fool  could  raise  his  sword. 
But  here  misfortune  overtook  him,  for  the  man  in 
falling  twisted  the  hilt  from  his  grasp  ere  he  might 
withdraw  the  blade.  Monsieur  Vignolles's  sword  had 
dropped  just  beyond  his  reach,  and  with  a  maddened  cry 
the  five  sprang  at  him. 

But  their  prey  was  not  yet  within  their  grasp.  With 
a  bound,  the  Sieur  Giraud  caught  up  the  table  and 
brought  it  down  upon  the  heads  of  the  foremost,  and,  as 
he  did  so,  the  candle  rolled  to  the  floor  and  was  promptly 
stamped  out  by  some  foot.  Then  cautiously  and  silently 
he  worked  his  way  to  the  wall  and  along  it  to  the  door 
leading  to  the  front  hall.  A  moment  more  and  he  would 
have  been  without;  but  even  as  he  softly  drew  the  bolt, 
the  outer  door  giving  upon  the  street  fell  inward  with 
a  crash,  and  he  heard  heavy  steps  approaching  through 
the  hall. 

Caught  between  two  bodies  of  these  knaves,  what 
290 


ON   THE  OTHER   SIDE  OF   THE   DOOR 

chance  had  he  now?  Despite  the  man's  dogged  courage, 
his  heart  fell. 

But  even  as  he  despaired,  he  heard  his  own  name 
shouted  aloud. 

The  saints  be  praised!    This  new-comer  was  Tite! 

Flinging  open  the  door,  he  fairly  ran  into  the  old 
man. 

"Tite,  thank  God,  'tis  you!"  he  cried. 

"  Come  quick !  The  whole  street  will  be  on  us  in  a 
moment  with  this  noise.  What  devil  possessed  you  to 
enter  alone?"  said  Tite. 

"  But  Monsieur  Vignolles !  "  cried  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  He  must  wait,"  answered  Tite.  "  We  have  enough 
to  look  after  our  own  skins  now." 

And,  indeed,  he  was  right,  for  were  they  caught  by 
the  crowd  that  would  soon  gather,  it  would  mean  the 
end  of  everything. 

"  Yet,  by  my  faith,  I'll  not  leave  my  sword  behind ! 
'Tis  yonder,  stuck  in  the  carcass  of  one  of  those  curs," 
cried  the  Sieur  Giraud.  "  Give  me  then  for  a  moment 
that " 

"  Nay,"  answered  Tite ;  and  for  an  instant  the  light 
of  battle  was  in  his  eyes.  "  I  know  as  much  of  the  use 
of  this  as  you  do.  Follow  me,  and  you  shall  have  your 
sword." 

The  five  within  had  by  now  fathomed  the  nature  of 
the  interruption  and,  seeing  that  Tite  was  alone,  rushed 
madly  forward  toward  them. 

Then  did  Tite  seem  to  shake  off  his  years. 

With  a  cry  of  joy  he  leaped  well  into  the  room,  that 
his  strange  weapon  might  have  fair  play,  and  fell  upon 
them.  Nor  could  they  withstand  his  onslaught,  for  few 
there  are  who  may  stand  before  it.  It  was  but  a  stout 
shaft  of  oak  the  length  of  his  arm,  to  which,  by  a  chain 

291 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


of  equal  length,  was  hung  a  huge  oaken  ball  bristling 
with  iron  spikes.  The  holy-water  sprinkler,  they  called 
it,  in  jest,  for  it  somewhat  resembled  that  implement 
in  shape,  and  death  it  was  to  him  whom  it  touched 
when  wielded  by  such  arms  as  Tite's. 

Three  more  were  down  when  the  Sieur  Giraud  recov- 
ered his  sword,  and  then  the  two  turned  and  ran  through 
the  hall  and  down  the  street.  Nor  were  they  any  too 
soon,  for  the  street  was  now  alive  with  those  roused 
by  the  brawl,  and  one  party  even  set  out  in  pursuit  of 
them. 

It  was  owing  to  Tite's  extensive  knowledge  of  the 
by-ways  and  alleys  that  they  finally  were  enabled  to 
shake  them  off. 

Yet  even  as  they  entered  Madame  Vaucler's  door, 
neither  felt  too  great  a  confidence  in  the  future.  As  for 
the  Sieur  Giraud,  he  knew  that  from  that  hour  these 
rogues,  and  especially  Crepin,  would  spare  no  pains  in 
hunting  him  down,  while  Tite  had  food  for  reflection 
in  that  he  had  this  night  allied  himself  with  the  Bur- 
gundian  faction. 

How  long  they  might  hope  to  avoid  discovery  seemed 
to  depend  wholly  upon  the  extent  of  Crepin's  hurt.  It 
was  therefore  scarce  a  matter  for  wonder  that  both 
should  pray  that  this  might  prove  mortal. 


292 


CHAPTER  XIX 

FROM    OUT   THE    HAZE 

NO  idle  words  had  Monsieur  Vignolles  spoken 
when  he  had  forecast  the  threatening  doom 
that  hovered  over  the  town. 

Like  the  coils  of  a  serpent  the  great,  advan- 
cing columns  of  the  Count  de  Charolais  unwound  them- 
selves from  among  the  hills  to  the  northward.  In  the 
van  marched  the  archers,  thousand  on  thousand  of  them, 
under  the  watchful  eye  of  the  Count  de  St.  Pol,  Consta- 
ble of  France.  Behind  them  the  earth  shook  with  the 
passage  of  the  huge  bombards  which  were  to  batter  down 
the  walls  of  Dinant,  and  on  the  flanks  hung  thick  masses 
of  mounted  men-at-arms. 

From  across  the  river  at  Bouvignes,  whither  Mon- 
seigneur  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  had  gone  to  watch  the 
course  of  affairs,  the  spectacle  of  this  advancing  host 
was  imposing  enough.  He  smiled  grimly  as  he  looked 
on,  for  in  those  flashing  gleams  from  headpiece  or  lance, 
in  the  flaunt  of  those  flaming  banners,  revenge  seemed 
very  near,  revenge  upon  this  canaille  who  had  dared 
defy  his  house.  A  great  pride  swelled  within  him,  too, 
as  his  eye  caught  the  sable  banner  with  its  golden  effigy 
of  St.  George  dealing  the  death-stroke  to  the  dragon,  for 
he  knew  that  beneath  its  fluttering  folds  rode  one  of  his 
own  blood,  one  well  fitted  for  his  task  of  vengeance.  If 
Monseigneur's  spirit  was  wellnigh  cold  with  age,  his 
heart  warmed  nevertheless  at  the  thought  that  he  had 

293 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


such  son  as  the  Count  de  Charolais  to  perform  this  work 
upon  which  he  himself  could  not  venture. 

Two  days  after  the  affray  at  the  house  of  Jacques 
Rochet,  an  uncouth,  unwieldy  rabble  sallied  forth  from 
the  town  to  meet  this  trained  soldiery.  For  in  Dinant  the 
hot-heads  still  were  in  full  control  and  large  bodies  of 
the  Companions  had  come  in  from  the  hills  to  have  a 
hand  in  the  undoing  of  the  hated  Charlotel.  Scarce  half 
a  league  from  the  gates  the  two  forces  met,  the  one  cool, 
compact,  and  directed  by  such  a  man  of  war  as  the  con- 
stable; the  other,  turbulent  and  bawling  the  vilest  in- 
sults by  way  of  preliminary,  with  no  formation,  and  led 
by  outlaw  chiefs  to  whom  warfare,  save  in  the  marauding 
fashion  of  the  hills,  was  unknown.  The  issue  of  such  an 
encounter  could  not  remain  long  in  doubt.  Of  the  two 
thousand  who  had  ventured  forth  with  such  foolhardy 
zeal,  scarce  half  returned  within  the  walls. 

And  now,  in  place  of  the  vaunted  courage  and  the 
boasting  threats  against  Charlotel,  came  terror-stricken 
cries  from  this  riotous  mob.  If  the  advance  guard  alone 
of  the  Burgundian  army  could  deal  such  a  blow,  what 
havoc  would  the  main  force  inflict?  Better  far  to  re- 
turn to  the  hardships  of  the  hills  than  to  remain  here  to 
become  such  prey.  So  thought  many  of  them,  and  ac- 
cordingly fled  with  no  more  ado;  but  enough  of  them 
were  yet  left  to  hold  the  upper  hand. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  the  Burgundian 
host  deployed  under  the  very  walls  of  the  town  and 
planted  their  bombards  to  bear  upon  one  spot  in  the 
masonry.  A  formal  summons  to  yield  was  met  with  jeer- 
ing refusal  from  the  maddened  crowds  on  the  walls. 

Then  the  Count  de  Charolais  gave  the  signal  and  in 
an  instant  the  ground  shook  with  the  thunderous  dis- 
charge of  many  pieces.  The  very  bombards  themselves, 

294 


FROM   OUT   THE   HAZE 


being  provided  with  no  trunnions,  leaped  high  after  each 
firing  and  tore  great  gashes  in  the  earth  beneath  them. 
Great  solid  shot  smashed  against  the  walls,  or  came 
screaming  over  them  to  fall  in  the  town. 

Against  all  this  the  wretched  rabble  could  return  only 
a  wavering  fire;  but  the  man  Lenoir  had  spoken  with 
reason  in  regard  to  the  walls.  Some  hammering  they 
would  require  ere  they  yielded,  and  with  this  thought  the 
crowd  contented  itself,  always  deluded  by  the  belief  that 
the  king  or  the  Liegeoise  were  coming  to  their  aid.  To 
storm  the  town  before  a  breach  had  been  effected  was 
beyond  the  powers  of  even  the  Burgundians.  Therefore 
they  settled  down  and  directed  all  their  attention  to  the 
guns. 

From  dawn  till  darkness  set  in  each  day  for  a  week 
the  surrounding  hills  echoed  with  the  continuous  roar, 
and  slowly,  but  steadily,  the  stout  masonry  gave  way 
under  the  onslaught.  Within  the  town  great  jagged 
holes  in  the  tiled  and  leaden  roofs  bore  witness  to  the 
havoc  wrought,  and  nigh  to  a  thousand  met  death  in  the 
streets  or  perchance  in  their  own  homes. 

And  now,  in  truth,  sheer  panic  seized  upon  the  very 
ones  who  before  had  blustered  such  defiance.  Escape 
ere  the  Burgundians  came  through  that  breach — a  score 
paces  wide — which  had  been  torn  in  the  wall,  was  all 
that  possessed  their  minds.  By  the  strange  fortune 
which  ofttimes  favours  rogues,  the  river  above  the  town 
had  been  left  unguarded.  Discovery  of  this  was  made 
by  a  few  more  venturesome  spirits,  and  with  the  fall  of 
night  these  bold  defenders  stole  away  into  the  darkness 
and  the  safety  of  the  Ardennes. 

With  the  morning  the  magistrates  again  found  them- 
selves in  control  and  at  once  made  overtures  to  the  Count 
de  Charolais.  These  were  unanswered,  for,  with  the 

295 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


prize  well  in  his  grasp,  Count  Charles  was  in  no  mood 
for  treating  with  his  victims. 

Fearful  of  showing  themselves  in  the  streets,  the  Sieur 
Giraud  and  Tite  all  this  time  had  been  forced  to  remain 
indoors  by  day.  But  at  night  they  thrice  had  ventured 
forth,  searching  the  deepest  shadows  in  the  manner  of 
two  culprits,  for  too  many  now  had  heard  of  them,  and 
recognition  meant  death. 

On  each  occasion  they  had  visited  the  street  wherein 
was  the  widow  Galiot's  house,  but  had  been  unable  to 
catch  sight  of  any  within,  nor  dared  they  enter,  since  it 
had  been  shown  them  how  thick  the  women  were  with 
Crepin. 

Once  they  had  nearly  met  misfortune,  for  one  of  the 
armed  patrols  which  now  nightly  held  ward  over  the 
streets,  would  have  inquired  into  the  affair  which  brought 
them  abroad  when  others  were  only  too  glad  to  sleep 
during  the  lull  in  the  bombardment.  Flight  alone  had 
saved  them,  and  again  it  had  been  Tite  who  showed  the 
way  to  safety. 

What  fate  Monsieur  Vignolles  had  met  they  knew 
not,  nor  might  they  further  concern  themselves  for 
him  since  their  own  position  was  wellnigh  as  perilous. 
Poncet  had  never  returned  to  them,  and  the  reason  was 
clear,  when  Madame  Vaucler  learned  in  her  gossip  that 
his  head  had  been  taken  off  by  a  round  shot. 

Of  Crepin  they  heard  no  word,  and  the  Sieur  Giraud 
wondered  whether  the  blow  he  had  dealt  him  had,  for 
all  time,  put  an  end  to  the  rogue's  devilry. 

Nobly  had  Madame  Vaucler  met  their  appeal  for 
secrecy  with  regard  to  their  presence  in  her  house.  Tite 
had  been  for  locking  her  up  in  her  own  room,  swearing 
that  no  woman's  tongue  might  be  trusted ;  but  the  Sieur 
Giraud  had  overruled  this  after  a  talk  with  the  woman. 

296 


FROM  OUT  THE   HAZE 


Garrulous  as  she  might  be,  she  could  not  do  too  much  for 
those  who  had  been  comrades  of  her  son,  and,  moreover, 
she  knew  naught  of  the  reason  which  made  these  two  so 
fearful.  They  had  said  some  brawl  had  forced  this  con- 
cealment upon  them,  and  she  once  had  seen  something  of 
the  like  in  the  case  of  Andre  himself. 

Yet  the  thought  of  the  Lady  Agathe  and  Marcelle 
being  left  alone  during  all  this  turmoil  weighed  heavily 
on  both  the  Sieur  Giraud  and  Tite.  At  length  they  de- 
cided upon  a  plan  for  their  relief,  and  only  waited  for 
favourable  opportunity  to  put  it  into  effect. 

Among  the  terror-stricken  herd  which  poured  forth 
into  the  hills,  some  who  might  have  been  looked  for 
there  were  lacking.  Neither  the  burly  form  of  Jacques 
Rochet  nor  the  lesser  one  of  Crepin  Brune  fought  for 
place  in  that  mad  rout.  In  the  case  of  the  former  this 
was  due  to  his  very  great  confidence  in  Crepin,  while  with 
the  latter,  it  only  went  to  show  the  supreme  confidence  he 
felt  in  his  own  safety,  even  should  the  Burgundians  take 
the  town.  Therefore  the  two,  with  some  half-score 
knaves  whom  they  cajoled  with  promises  of  future  re- 
ward, remained  behind,  and  Rochet's  house  became  the 
headquarters  for  the  party. 

In  truth,  the  blow  that  Crepin's  head  had  sustained 
had  been  no  light  one,  and  for  some  days  he  might  not 
leave  the  bed  to  which  they  had  borne  him.  This  had 
served  to  protect  the  Sieur  Giraud  from  the  immediate 
pursuit  Crepin  would  have  begun.  Indeed,  the  man  had 
urged  Rochet  to  the  work,  but  the  efforts  of  that  worthy 
had  met  with  no  success. 

With  his  recovery,  his  hatred  for  the  Sieur  Giraud 
grew  apace,  and  consumed  him  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
other  thought.  Only  let  him  lay  hands  on  this  Bur- 
gundian  now,  and  he  could  wipe  out  the  score  between 

297 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


them  and  add  to  his  own  reward  at  one  and  the  same 
time. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  that  saw  the  return  of 
the  magistrates  to  power,  Crepin  found  himself  strong 
enough  to  rise  and  dress.  Fixity  of  purpose  was  on 
his  features,  for  in  the  long  hours  he  had  lain  helpless 
his  mind  had  not  been  idle.  An  ugly,  distorted  look 
he  wore,  for  despite  flogging  and  such  other  tortures 
as  they  could  invent,  Monsieur  Vignolles  had,  for  the 
third  time,  just  refused  to  disclose  the  lodging  of  the 
Sieur  Giraud.  Which  tale,  repeated  by  Rochet,  had 
served  to  bring  Crepin  from  his  bed. 

"  Then  there  is  but  one  course  left  us,"  he  cried  as 
he  snatched  a  pike  from  the  corner.  "  We  must  search 
the  town  from  end  to  end.  But  first  I  will  see  Petite 
Maman,  for  perchance  she  has  some  word  that  may  help 
us.  Leave  three  men  to  have  an  eye  on  that  fool  below, 
and  you  and  the  rest  come  with  me.  By  all  the  saints, 
this  Sieur  Giraud  shall  not  give  us  the  slip  this  time 
if  fortune  favours  us !  " 

A  moment  later  he  gazed  with  satisfaction  on  the 
men  Rochet  assembled,  and,  noting  that  they  were  well 
armed,  strode  forth  into  the  night  with  the  eight  at  his 
heels. 

Arrived  before  the  widow  Gailot's,  he  left  them 
before  the  house,  bidding  them  keep  in  the  shadow, 
and  quickly  made  his  way  round  to  the  rear. 

He  had  come  in  good  season,  for  Petite  Maman  was 
just  in  the  act  of  putting  up  the  shutters  before  the 
window.  She  started,  half  in  fright,  as  he  came  before 
her. 

"  Faith,  'tis  little  we've  seen  of  you  of  late,  Master 
Crepin,"  she  cried.  "  Methought  one  of  the  big  shot 
must  have  carried  you  off,  and  with  you  I  saw  depart 

298 


FROM   OUT   THE   HAZE 


the  hope  you  raised  within  me  the  night  you  took  young 
jackanapes  from  here.  How  fares  he?" 

"  Well  enough,"  answered  Crepin  shortly,  and 
nodded  to  the  other  women  who  now  came  to  the  win- 
dow. "  But  stubborn  he  is — stubborn  as  the  very  devil 
— and  naught  will  he  say  of  the  whereabouts  of  the 
other.  'Tis  for  that  I  come  to  you,  for  'tis  clear  enough 
you  know  something,  since  but  a  week  ago  the  Sieur 
Giraud  wellnigh  did  for  me." 

"  And  what  has  that  to  do  with  me  ? "  asked  the 
woman. 

"  Enough,  methinks,"  he  replied,  "  since  the  man 
would  scarce  find  me  out  by  chance — he  and  that  old 
rogue  Tite." 

Petite  Maman  let  the  shutter  drop  heavily. 

"  Tite,  you  say  ?  He  was  with  the  Burgundian  ?  " 
she  cried.  "  Then,  in  truth,  'twas  I  who  sent  them 
against  you.  We'd  all  had  some  drink  that  night;  but, 
by  my  faith,  ne'er  did  I  suspect  Tite  of  favouring  this 
Sieur  Giraud,  else  would  I  have  kept  my  tongue  still." 

"And  better  'twould  have  been,"  growled  Crepin; 
"  but  the  thing  is  ended.  What  I  would  learn  now  is 
whether  you  know  aught  of  where  the  two  keep  them- 
selves, for,  I  tell  you,  to  lay  hands  on  the  Sieur  Giraud 
will  mean  much  to  us.  The  time  is  getting  short,  and 
Chariot  el  may  storm  the  town  at  any  hour." 

"  Ay,  but  I  know  naught  of  what  you  ask,"  answered 
the  woman,  and  then  added,  "  To  think  of  my  being  so 
wheedled  by  Tite!  But  'twas  drink  did  it — drink  and 
the  fluster  of  Marcelle's  coming  that  night  and  in  such 
case." 

"  What  mean  you,  woman?  Why  should  her  com- 
ing make  you  play  the  fool?" 

"  Because,  till  the  leech  came,  we  all  thought  she 
20  299 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


was  as  good  as  dead,"  replied  Petite  Maman.  "  Some 
one  in  the  hills  dealt  her  a  foul  blow  that  wellnigh  made 
an  end  of  her." 

"The  devil!  I  knew  naught  of  that!"  said  Crepin, 
and,  like  a  flash,  a  brutal  desire  arose  within  him  to  see 
Marcelle  and  note  how  she  would  receive  him  after 
what  had  passed  between  them  at  the  vine-grower's. 

"  Methinks  I'll  see  Marcelle  a  moment!"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"  And  methinks  you'll  do  naught  of  the  kind,"  an- 
swered Petite  Maman  firmly.  "  Faith,  'tis  only  to-day 
she  has  sat  up  for  the  first  time,  and  that,  I'll  be  sworn, 
is  only  due  to  the  care  she's  had  from  the  fine  lady  she 
sent  here." 

"The  Lady  Agathe!"  said  Crepin. 

"Whom  else  should  it  be?"  answered  the  woman. 
"  Saints !  she's  scarce  left  Marcelle's  side  since  she  came 
here.  A  strange  lady  she  is,  and  one  the  like  of  whom 
I've  ne'er  seen  before." 

The  woman's  refusal  to  allow  him  to  see  Marcelle 
only  served  to  aggravate  his  desire.  If  his  plans  did 
not  miscarry,  the  time  might  soon  come  when  he  would 
be  in  a  position  to  drive  a  fresh  bargain  with  Marcelle — 
a  bargain  in  which  she  would  have  no  say. 

"I  tell  you  I  will  see  Marcelle,"  he  said  sharply; 
"  and  do  you  have  a  care  how  you  oppose  me,  Petite 
Maman!  No  more  deal  you  with  Crepin  Brune  of  the 
Ardennes,  but  with  the  man  who  may  save  your  very 
life  yet." 

The  women  recoiled  in  dread  at  his  words. 

"Ha!  You  women  will  be  looking  for  a  friend 
when  the  Burgundians  get  into  these  streets.  You 
know  what  to  expect  unless " 

"  Hold  your  tongue!  "  cried  Petite  Maman.  "  Faith, 
300 


FROM   OUT  THE   HAZE 


we've  no  notion  of  opposing  you  since  you  say  you 
can  save  us." 

"  That  I  swear  to  do!  "  he  said.  "  If  Charlotel  deny 
me  aught  after  what  I  shall  offer  him,  then  has  the  devil 
turned  all  things  awry.  Saints !  one  might  have  thought 
I  meant  the  girl  harm!  What  more  natural  than  for  an 
old  Companion  to  wish  to  see  her  after  her  trouble?  " 

"  Enough !  Since  'tis  fixed  in  your  mind,  see  her 
you  shall,  though  methinks  she  scarce  yearns  so  for 
the  meeting,  and  she  has  said  no  word  to  any  one  since 
she  came  back  from  the  hills,"  answered  Petite  Maman, 
and,  moving  to  one  side,  added,  "  Come  in,  then;  you'll 
find  them  in  the  front  room." 

"  Them!  "  cried  Crepin.  "  But  I've  no  time  to  waste 
on  this  other;  I  would  see  Marcelle  alone.  Get  the 
Lady  Agathe  away  from  her." 

"  She's  not  with  Marcelle,  but  in  her  own  room, 
asleep,"  put  in  Bonne  Fleuron.  "  I  saw  her  there  just 
before  you  came." 

"  Then  do  you  go  to  the  front  door  and  I'll  let  you 
in,"  said  Petite  Maman,  "  though  'tis  a  trick  I'd  have 
no  hand  in  but  for  what  you  say  you  can  do  for  us." 

"  And  I'll  not  forget  when  it  comes  your  turn  to 
ask  favours,"  he  said  quickly,  and  with  that  stole  round 
to  the  front  and  entered. 

Petite  Maman  softly  opened  the  door  of  Marcelle's 
room,  looked  about,  and  then,  without  a  word,  motioned 
him  to  pass  in.  An  instant  later  the  door  closed  softly 
behind  him. 

So  quietly  had  the  man  entered  that  Marcelle,  half 
turned  from  him,  made  no  note  of  his  presence,  and  he 
paused  a  moment,  struck  by  the  great  change  that  her 
illness  had  wrought  in  her  appearance.  She  half  sat, 
half  reclined  in  a  large  arm-chair  spread  with  blankets 

301 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


and  pillows  from  the  bed.  In  the  light  of  the  candle 
upon  the  table,  her  face  shone  white  and  drawn;  but 
Crepin's  mind  was  most  taken  up  with  the  listless  look 
in  her  great  black  eyes  as  she  stared  straight  before 
her.  In  it  were  concentrated  abandonment,  despair, 
and  resignation.  Her  small  hands  clasped  and  unclasped 
again  and  again  as  he  watched,  and,  wretch  though  the 
man  was,  he  felt  something  akin  to  pity  for  her. 

The  Lady  Agathe  might  have  told  him  how  for  days 
she  had  struggled  to  bring  Marcelle  back  to  the  present; 
how  she  had  fought  by  every  means  to  rouse  her  from 
her  somnolence,  even  to  mention  of  the  Sieur  Giraud's 
name,  and  all  without  avail.  Also  how  Marcelle  had 
checked  her  petulantly  when  she  would  have  told  her 
of  the  great  love  she  bore  Monsieur  Vignolles;  so  that 
at  last  she  had  given  over  all  thought  of  speech,  and 
had  realised  that  she,  at  least,  might  not  rouse  Mar- 
celle from  her  lethargy. 

He  shifted  his  feet  uneasily  and  coughed. 

Marcelle  turned  her  head  slowly. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it,  Crepin?"  she  said  quietly,  and 
seemed  in  no  way  startled  by  his  appearance. 

This  form  of  greeting  took  him  unawares.  He  had 
been  armed  against  a  wild  outburst  of  passion,  but  this 
indifferent  calm  robbed  him  of  speech. 

"  So  you  got  free  that  day  under  the  Great  Bald 
Knoll?  I  knew  it  not  before,"  she  went  on,  but  in  her 
words  there  was  no  tone  of  interest.  It  was  as  though 
she  spoke  of  some  trivial  occurrence  which  mattered 
not  one  way  or  the  other,  and  broke  not  upon  her 
reverie.  Yet  she  had  not  spoken  as  much  since  her 
injury. 

At  last  the  man  found  his  voice. 

"  Ay,  I  slipped  through  their  hands  in  the  end,"  he 
302 


FROM   OUT   THE   HAZE 


said,  "  though  the  feel  of  the  rope  is  upon  my  neck  even 
now." 

She  made  no  answer,  and  he  continued: 

"  That  day  you  entered  into  a  compact  with  me ;  do 
you  recall  it,  Marcelle?  If  I  had  succeeded " 

"  But  you  failed,"  she  said  wearily.  "  Why,  then, 
speak  of  something  which  no  longer  has  any  interest 
for  me?" 

He  stepped  forward  so  that  he  came  to  face  her. 

"  And  if  it  is  so,  think  not  that  my  own  concern  is 
so  short-lived,  Marcelle,"  he  cried  sharply,  for  in  the 
very  frailty  of  the  girl  his  brutal  instinct  thought  to 
see  a  ready  submission,  or,  at  most,  but  a  feeble  re- 
sistance to  his  will. 

"  Ha,  times  have  changed,  Marcelle ! "  he  went  on. 
"  You  will  remember  I  spoke  of  the  fame  I  should  at- 
tain if  my  shaft  went  true ;  but,  bah !  What  would  such 
have  meant? — naught  but  the  plaudits  of  a  roving  troop 
of  vagabonds,  the  fawning  of  the  precious  Companions 
of  the  Green  Tent!  Where  are  these  now?  Skulking 
yonder  in  the  Ardennes,  and  dodging  every  shadow, 
fearful  lest  it  be  cast  by  a  man  of  Burgundy.  I  failed 
that  day  because  of  a  rotten  bow-string,  yet  ne'er  did 
good  fortune  attend  closer  upon  failure." 

She  stopped  him  with  a  gesture  of  fatigue,  and 
raised  her  great  eyes  to  his  for  a  moment. 

"  I  know  your  change  of  purpose,"  she  said  quietly. 
"  Agathe  has  told  me — I  believe  she  has — I  am  not 
sure — of  the  seizure  of  Monsieur  Vignolles,  and  with 
the  Count  de  Charolais  thundering  at  the  gates,  your 
intent  is  clear  enough.  But,  once  more,  I  tell  you,  all 
this  affects  me  no  longer.  When  the  Burgundians  come 
pouring  into  the  town,  they  shall  find  me  ready.  Yet, 
I  shall  pay  the  debt  of  another,  for  that  Marcelle  the 

303 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


Mad  whom  they  would  kill  died  a  week  ago.  But  go, 
Crepin.  I  would  be  alone." 

The  Lady  Agathe  would  have  marvelled  had  she  seen 
her  so  wakened. 

A  moment  he  looked  at  her  without  speaking,  so 
strange  were  her  words ;  then  shook  his  head  and  said, 
with  what  passed  with  him  for  gentleness: 

"  Faith,  that  blow  on  the  head  has  shaken  your 
mind,  Marcelle.  Or  is  it  the  dread  of  the  death  you 
think  to  see  before  you?  Ay,  'tis  that,  methinks,  for 
few  there  be  who  can  look  such  in  the  face  and  hold  their 
senses.  You  have  guessed  aright  what's  in  my  mind. 
The  man's  a  fool  who  sits  idly  by  when  he  may  gain 
reward  with  little  effort,  and  this  Vignolles  will  make  a 
pretty  offering  to  the  Burgundians.  But  'tis  the  other, 
the  Sieur  Giraud,  they'd  give  more  to  hold,  and  him  I 
will  have  ere  many  hours.  Could  I  have  taken  Gaspard 
Lenoir  the  other  night,  the  bag  would  have  been  com- 
plete, but  he's  got  safe  away." 

Marcelle  looked  up  quickly. 

"  Then  you  know  where  to  lay  your  hand  on  the 
Sieur  Giraud  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  he  answered  grimly ;  "  but  if  I  track  him  not 
to  his  cover  this  night,  'twill  be  passing  strange.  Two 
such  men  as  he  and  Tite  may  not  remain  hid  to  all  eyes 
in  such  town  as  Dinant;  and  eight  sturdy  knaves  there 
are  without  who  will  aid  me  in  the  search.  But  enough 
of  this ;  'tis  of  yourself  I  would  speak." 

He  thrust  his  head  quite  close  to  hers,  but  she  showed 
no  fear,  though  a  repulsive  leer  had  come  over  his 
features. 

"  Such  fair  body  as  yours  was  ne'er  meant  for  the 
rope  or  block,  Marcelle,"  he  said,  "  nor  shall  it  meet  such 
end.  Yet,  in  truth,  I  saw  not  how  'twas  to  be  avoided 

304 


FROM   OUT   THE   HAZE 


till  your  own  words — mad  though  they  were — gave  me 
the  clew.  Even  I,  with  the  power  I  hope  to  gain,  might 
not  claim  the  life  of  Marcelle  the  Mad.  But  you  have 
said  that  she  was  dead.  So  be  it;  let  it  be  thought  so. 
For  a  week  you've  not  been  seen  abroad,  and  enough 
women  have  already  been  killed  to  make  it  no  strange 
matter.  Petite  Maman  and  the  others  will  swear  to  the 
lie  to  save  you  and  to  oblige  me.  In  two  days'  time  all 
in  Dinant  will  believe  the  tale,  for  we'll  take  care  to 
spread  the  news  far  and  wide." 

"  While  I  remain  alive  to  prove  its  untruth,"  said 
Marcelle  coldly.  "  Oh,  leave  me,  Crepin ;  I  have  no  mind 
for  what  you  say !  " 

"  Yet  you  shall  hear  me,"  he  answered  fiercely. 
"  Think  you  I  am  so  mad  as  to  suggest  your  remaining 
here  as  you  are?  No!  That  the  report  we  spread  may 
receive  credence,  you  shall  disappear  as  completely  as 
though,  in  truth,  you  were  dead.  This  night  shall  you 
leave  here  and  go  to  the  house  of  Jacques  Rochet.  The 
Burgundians  will  not  search  there;  I'll  swear  to  that; 
and  if  I  may  not  save  Marcelle  the  Mad  they  will  scarce 
deny  me  the  life  of  a  common  wench,  such  as  Rochet's 
sister,  for  example." 

Under  his  words  she  had  surely  been  shaking  off  her 
stupor,  and  with  the  change  her  old  horror  of  the  man 
possessed  her.  He  had  touched  the  only  chord,  per- 
chance, that  could  so  have  roused  her,  and  would  now 
find  that  his  conquest  was  not  to  be  so  light  a  matter. 

"  And  the  price  for  this  great  service  is  the  same 
as  you  before  exacted  ?  "  she  asked. 

In  his  eagerness  the  man  took  no  note  of  her  tone, 
which  should  have  warned  him  of  trouble  ahead. 

"  What  else  should  it  be  ?  "  he  said.  "  If  I  give  you 
life,  'tis  that  I  may  enjoy  it  with  you.  Long  have  I 

305 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


sought  some  return  of  the  love  I  bear  you,  Marcelle; 
and  I  make  you  fair  enough  offer.  From  to-night  you  be- 
come mine,  body  and  soul — mine  to  do  with  as  I  choose 
— or  else  you  shall  have  such  mercy  as  the  Burgundian 
shall  award  you.  If  my  arms  may  not  embrace  you,  then 
it  shall  be  the  rasping  coil  of  the  noose.  Choose !  " 

She  rose  and  faced  him,  and  he  paused  even  as  his 
hand  would  have  fallen  upon  her;  paused  with  sudden 
surprise  at  the  new  light  in  her  eye. 

"  Fiend  though  you  are,  thank  God  that  you  came  to 
me  this  night,"  she  cried,  "  for  the  very  brute  in  you  has 
snatched  me  from  the  horrid  depths  to  which  I  had  come ! 
You  offer  me  life  as  though  'twas  something  for  which 
I  craved.  Fool,  you  know  not  that  this  very  moment 
should  death  come  upon  me  I  would  welcome  it  gladly, 
and  if  I  have  understood  not  how  to  live,  I  shall  know 
how  to  die.  Go,  Crepin  Brune,  go  to  the  vile  business 
that  calls  you  forth.  Naught  may  I  put  in  your  way, 
for  the  race  of  Marcelle  is  run  and  none  are  left  to 
answer  her  wishes.  Your  own  miserable  life  you  would 
save  by  sacrificing  two  men  whom  you  ne'er  would  risk 
meeting  in  fair  fight.  But,  ah!  go,  go!  For  the  very 
sight  of  your  scurvy  face  fills  me  with  loathing !  " 

In  truth,  the  man's  expression  was  such  as  to  turn 
one  from  it,  and  for  a  moment  so  choking  was  his  rage 
that  he  might  not  speak;  then  it  burst  from  him  in  a 
flood. 

"  Then  so  be  it!  "  he  roared.  "  Since  you  prefer  this 
death,  by  God!  you  shall  have  it;  but  first  you  shall 
know  what  it  is  to  oppose  me  now !  You  spurn  the  offer 
I  made  you,  as  though  we  were  still  in  the  hills  and  you 
had  choice.  Ha!  We  shall  see!  This  night  shall  you 
go  to  Rochet's  house,  willing  or  no,  and  there  we  shall 
find  a  way  to  tame  you,  methinks." 

306 


FROM   OUT  THE   HAZE 


He  took  a  step  toward  the  door,  but  even  as  his  hand 
would  have  fallen  on  the  catch,  it  opened  and  the  Lady 
Agathe  faced  him. 

High  above  her  head  she  bore  a  heavy  brass  candle- 
stick, the  candle  still  burning  in  its  socket,  and  ere  Crepin 
divined  her  intention  she  hurled  it  full  at  his  head.  He 
instinctively  ducked  and  the  flying  metal  missed  him  by 
the  merest  fraction. 

Marcelle  looked  on  dumfounded  by  this  sudden  on- 
slaught. She  had  believed  the  Lady  Agathe  incapable 
of  raising  a  hand,  even  in  her  own  defence ;  but  now  in 
her  blue  eyes  there  was  a  glitter  that  for  a  moment  made 
Crepin  recoil. 

The  next  instant  she  was  at  Marcelle's  side  and  her 
arm  had  encircled  the  slight  form. 

"  I  have  heard,  dear  heart,"  she  cried ;  "  but  he  shall 
not  do  it !  God  will  not  let  it  be  so !  " 

Crepin  crossed  the  room  and  stamped  out  the  light 
of  the  fallen  candle. 

"  Ha !  "  he  sneered.  "  It  seems,  my  fine  lady,  that 
you  have  learned  something  of  fury  in  the  Ardennes. 
A  little  more  and  methinks  you  would  have  put  out  my 
light.  I  search  no  quarrel  with  you;  but  do  you  keep 
your  hands  off  my  affairs,  or " 

Ere  he  might  assign  the  penalty  a  loud  shouting 
arose  without ;  then  the  scuffling  of  feet  upon  the  gravel 
path,  and  the  sharp  clash  of  steel. 

Crepin  ran  to  the  door  and  threw  it  open,  and,  as  he 
did  so,  the  Sieur  Giraud  staggered  up  the  steps  as  though 
to  seek  asylum  within.  They  all  saw  him  plainly  in 
the  light,  yet  'tis  doubtful  if  he  saw  as  clearly,  for 
blood  was  pouring  into  his  eyes  from  a  gash  in  his 
forehead.  The  next  instant  two  figures  leaped  upon  him 
from  behind  and  threw  him  heavily  backward. 

307 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


Even  as  he  fell,  Jacques  Rochet  ran  up  the  steps. 

"  Faith,  'tis  like  the  chase  itself !  "  he  cried.  "  You'll 
get  as  much  game  by  letting  it  come  to  you  as  by  seek- 
ing it.  The  fools  ran  straight  into  our  arms;  but  curse 
them,  two  of  our  men  are  down ! " 

A  groan  from  the  pathway  bore  witness  to  this  state- 
ment. 

"  But  the  other,  the  old  man  Tite  ?  "  cried  Crepin. 

"The  devil  seize  him;  he  got  clean  away  when  we 
came  between  the  two ! "  answered  Rochet. 

"  Well,  'tis  small  matter,  for  'tis  this  Sieur  Giraud 
we  want  most,"  said  Crepin  in  high  spirits.  "  See  that 
he  gives  you  not  the  slip." 

"  Never  fear,"  was  the  reply.  "  The  fight's  out  of 
him  for  a  while,  and  he'll  not  get  out  from  under  the 
four  that  hold  him  now." 

They  both  peered  into  the  darkness  and  laughed. 
Then  Crepin  turned  upon  the  women. 

"  Methinks  we've  robbed  you  of  a  call,"  he  sneered, 
"  for  I  know  not  what  else  should  have  brought  them 
here  so  opportunely.  For  a  short  time  I  must  leave  you 
to  see  that  the  Sieur  Giraud  is  housed  as  becomes  his 
station;  but  within  an  hour  I  shall  be  back.  Lest  you 
quit  the  house,  I'll  leave  two  men  here — and,  Marcelle, 
do  you  gather  such  things  as  you  need,  for  at  my  friend 
Rochet's  you  shall  sleep  this  night." 

With  a  coarse  laugh  he  slammed  the  door  behind 
him,  and  the  two  women,  listening,  heard  the  party  stum- 
bling about  the  grounds  for  some  moments ;  heard  the 
measured  tread  of  footsteps  as  they  moved  away,  and 
then  all  was  still,  save  for  the  crunching  of  gravel  be- 
neath the  feet  of  the  man  left  before  the  house. 

"  O  God !  Is  there  no  way  out  ?  "  cried  the  Lady 
Agathe. 

308 


FROM   OUT   THE   HAZE 


"  None !  "  answered  Marcelle  as  she  turned  and  en- 
tered her  room.  "  Yet  I  shall  not  go  to  Rochet's  house, 
Agathe." 

She  stooped,  and  from  beneath  her  pillow  drew  forth 
a  knife  in  its  leather  sheath. 

"  I  shall  know  how  to  use  it,  fear  not,  Agathe,"  she 
said.  "  God  knows,  I  have  meditated  such  use  often 
enough  in  these  past  few  days !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  Marcelle !  "  cried  the  other.  "  Yet- 
yet  better  that  than  this  thing  that  threatens  you." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Marcelle  simply. 

And  so  they  waited  in  silence,  starting  at  every 
sound  without;  but  of  the  two,  the  hand  of  Marcelle 
was  the  steadier,  and  her  eye  was  clear  with  resolu- 
tion. 

For  hours,  it  seemed,  they  sat  there  huddled  in  each 
other's  arms;  yet,  in  truth,  it  was  less  than  the  half 
of  one.  Then  suddenly  there  came  the  sound  of  scratch- 
ing upon  the  door. 

"  Marcelle !    My  lady !    Let  me  in !  " 

It  was  but  a  hoarse  whisper,  but  it  brought  them  to 
their  feet  with  a  bound,  for,  praise  God!  it  was  the 
voice  of  Tite  plain  enough.  A  second  later  he  stood 
before  them. 

"  By  St.  Hubert,  a  fine  mess  we've  made  of  it  this 
night !  "  he  cried.  "  But  come ;  'tis  left  for  me  to  do 
what  the  two  of  us  set  out  for,  not  an  hour  since,  and 
there's  no  time  to  lose.  We've  got  gold — or  I  have 
now — no  matter  how  we  had  it.  Ask  no  man  if  he's  a 
thief  in  Dinant  to-night.  The  magistrates  have  sent  the 
keys  of  the  town  to  the  Count  de  Charolais  and  the 
gates  are  open.  We  may  buy  the  right  to  leave  Dinant 
if  we  move  quickly  and  before  any  of  my  lords  come 
up,  for  the  archers  of  Burgundy  have  the  same  love  of 

309 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


gold  as  the  rest  of  us.     Come !    They  have  not  yet  en- 
tered the  citadel,  and  '.tis  a  fair  chance." 

"  Oh,  thank  God!  "  cried  the  Lady  Agathe.  "  Come, 
Marcelle !  But  what  of  the  guard  before  the  house  ?  " 
she  added,  turning  to  Tite. 

"  He'll  not  detain  you,"  he  replied  grimly,  and  half 
drew  his  knife  so  that  they  saw  the  red  upon  it. 

"  Then  come,  Marcelle,  come ! "  cried  the  Lady 
Agathe  with  a  shudder. 

But  Marcelle  made  no  move. 

"  No,  I  shall  not  leave  Dinant,"  she  said,  "  for  now 
my  work  is  clear  before  me." 

"  Not  leave  Dinant  ?  "  cried  Tite. 

"  No,  I  shall  stay  for  what  I  have  to  do,"  she  an- 
swered quietly.  "  Something  seems  to  have  been  lifted 
from  my  head  and  I  have  come  from  out  the  haze 
wherein  I  dreamt.  Yet  I  must  fly  from  here,  or — or 
Crepin  will  return  to  seize  me.  Tite,  Tite,  take  me  from 
here — somewhere,  anywhere.  'Tis  the  last  favour  Mar- 
celle e'er  will  ask  of  you." 

She  clutched  his  hand  distractedly. 

A  moment  the  old  man  hesitated,  dumfounded  by 
her  words ;  then  he  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  A  long  time  has  your  will  been  mine,  Marcelle," 
he  said,  "  too  long  to  suffer  change  now.  It  shall  be 
as  you  wish,  though  the  devil  only  knows  what  possesses 
you.  Come,  then ;  I  will  take  you  to  Madame  Vaucler's. 
If  her  house  hides  you  as  well  as  it  has  the  Sieur  Gi- 
raud  and  me,  'twill  serve  your  needs." 

Thus  did  Tite  thrust  behind  him  the  hopes  of  escape 
which  he,  as  much  as  any,  had  cause  to  cherish,  and  the 
Lady  Agathe  said  no  further  word. 

"  God  bless  you,  Tite !  "  cried  Marcelle,  and  wrung 
his  hand. 

310 


FROM   OUT   THE   HAZE 


The  next  moment  the  three  stole  silently  into  the 
street,  so  silently  that  the  guard  at  the  rear  took  no 
alarm. 

Yet  it  was  a  full  hour  ere  they  reached  Madame 
Vaucler's,  for  Tite  would  proceed  only  when  they  had 
clear  field,  and  ofttimes  made  them  halt  in  some  shadow 
till  he  was  satisfied  of  this. 

As  they  mounted  the  steps  a  gun  thundered  heavily 
from  the  plain. 

The  Marshal  of  Burgundy  had  entered  the  citadel. 

Adieu  now  all  thought  of  escape! 


CHAPTER   XX 

A    BREAK    IN    THE    LINES 

THUS,  without  a   final   struggle   with   the   Bur- 
gundian  host;  without  forcing  upon  them  the 
storming  of  those  walls  which  had  been  so  bat- 
tered to  their  foundations,  did  the  people  of 
Dinant  throw  themselves  upon  the  mercy  of  their  foe. 

Mercy!  They  would  soon  see  how  such  was  meted 
out  to  them.  The  mischief  had  been  done.  The  wanton, 
riotous  mob  had  fled,  bequeathing  to  those  they  left  be- 
hind the  terrible  legacy  of  settlement  with  the  House  of 
Burgundy.  Leagues  away  in  the  fastnesses  of  the 
Ardennes  skulked  these  outlaw  bands,  straining  their 
gaze  from  the  hilltops  to  note  the  outcome  of  the  ruin 
they  had  wrought,  and  ready  to  return  should  the 
wretched  inhabitants  make  their  peace. 

Alas,  for  those  left  with  such  a  debt  to  meet !  Better 
they  might  have  laid  down  their  lives  in  their  own  streets 
in  strife  with  these  renegades  than  so  to  have  incurred 
the  hatred  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  and  that  last  grim 
and  towering  figure  of  the  Dark  Ages,  the  Count  de 
Charolais. 

Yet  now,  with  the  prey  well  within  his  toils,  Count 
Charles  moved  in  a  slow  and  deliberate  fashion  that 
accorded  well  with  his  cold-blooded  intent.  Moreover, 
Monseigneur  had  arrived  from  Bouvignes,  and  their  two 
heads  were  often  together,  for  there  was  much  detail  to 
be  gone  over  in  the  design  they  meditated. 

312 


A   BREAK  IN   THE   LINES 


For  two  days  then,  save  for  the  advance  guard  which 
Count  Charles  had  thrown  into  the  citadel,  no  Burgun- 
dians  entered  within  the  gates.  Yet  with  these  first  comers 
the  townspeople  had  a  foretaste  of  what  lay  before  them, 
for  scarce  had  midnight  sounded  when  they  broke  from 
control  and  poured  through  the  streets  in  search  of  spoil. 
From  that  moment,  by  night  and  by  day,  no  man's  house 
was  free  from  their  raids,  and  the  streets  they  held  to 
themselves,  for  none  would  venture  abroad  in  the  swag- 
gering throng,  dreading  the  sharp  prod  of  a  sword  or 
the  playful  lance-thrust  which  always  attended  the  meet- 
ing of  Burgundian  and  man  of  Dinant. 

To  this  search  .for  plunder  Count  Charles  made  no 
scruple ;  but  for  offences  against  the  women  of  the  town 
his  rage  knew  no  bounds.  Three  archers  of  his  own 
guard  found  guilty  of  such  wrong  were  hung  before  the 
very  houses  they  had  entered,  their  chains  clanking 
ominous  warning  to  any  others  so  disposed. 

On  the  third  day  after  the  surrender  of  the  town, 
Monseigneur  again  betook  himself  to  Bouvignes.  The 
plan  had  been  determined  to  the  smallest  item,  and  its 
execution  he  confidently  left  to  his  son.  Moreover, 
shaken  with  age  and  illness,  he  had  no  mind  for  too  close 
contact  with  what  was  to  follow. 

Far  over  the  plain,  before  the  gates,  extended  the 
Burgundian  forces.  Each  day  the  van  had  moved  a  little 
nearer,  and  now,  with  the  departure  of  Monseigneur,  the 
blare  of  trumpets  called  them  to  arms. 

The  morning  was  bright  and  clear  and  the  summer 
sun  danced  gaily  from  helm  to  breastplate,  and  from 
lance-head  to  pike,  as  the  vast  concourse  took  up  its 
march  toward  the  gates.  From  their  platforms  the  huge, 
brazen  bombards  grinned  open-mouthed  at  the  spectacle, 
yet  shone  as  with  a  dull  reddened  resentment  that  the 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


monstrous  breach  they  had  effected  was  not  to  be  turned 
to  account. 

In  the  van  of  the  advancing  troops,  as  they  entered  the 
gates,  rode  the  Count  de  St.  Pol  in  the  midst  of  a  re- 
splendent staff.  Behind  him,  rank  on  rank,  marched 
masses  of  light-footed  archers,  their  brilliant  tunics  and 
plumed  caps  a  sea  of  nodding  colour,  and  their  lusty 
voices  roaring  forth  song  that  alike  drowned  drum  and 
trumpet. 

Following  these  cavorted  a  gleaming  cavalcade  be- 
neath a  waving  surge  of  banners  emblazoned  with  the 
emblems  of  the  states  owning  allegiance  to  the  House  of 
Burgundy.  And  what  a  host  of  these  there  were;  to 
what  far-away  districts  had  this  summons  of  fire  and 
sword  penetrated,  and  there  been  obeyed !  Brabant,  Lim- 
bourg,  Luxembourg,  Flanders,  Artois — these  would 
have  been  looked  for  in  any  Burgundian  muster ;  but,  in 
truth,  Count  Charles  had  meant  no  half  measures,  for 
mingling  their  folds  with  these  fluttered  the  standards  of 
Hainault,  Holland,  Zealand,  Namur,  Friesland,  and  Ma- 
lines.  And  in  the  centre,  towering  above  them  all,  reared 
the  dreaded  oriflamme  of  the  House  of  Burgundy. 

Close  behind,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  this  token  of  his 
lineage,  rode  the  Count  de  Charolais.  The  cowering 
people  who  now  had  ventured  forth  could  read  no  sign  of 
his  intent  in  his  cold,  implacable  look.  Over  his  armour 
fell  a  heavy  mantle,  its  velvet  folds  flashing  with  gems 
and  weighted  down  with  the  great  golden  Cross  of  St. 
Andrew  that  gleamed  upon  its  front.  Beside  his  mas- 
sive frame  those  who  rode  with  him  were  lost  sight  of, 
for  it  was  he,  and  he  alone,  who  held  the  fate  of  these 
people  in  his  hand. 

Bringing  up  the  rear  came  the  nobles  and  pages  of 
the  household,  and  then  squadron  after  squadron  of 

3H 


A   BREAK  IN   THE   LINES 


men-at-arms,  till  the  earth  trembled  with  the  tread 
of  their  mounts,  and  the  ear  hummed  with  the  clash  of 
steel  and  the  jingle  of  spur. 

As  the  last  file  passed,  the  great  gates  swung  heavily 
to  behind  them.  For  Dinant  the  hour  of  retribution  had 
come. 

And  now  every  house  in  Dinant  had  its  quota  of 
these  inVaders  to  shelter,  and  plunder  was  renewed  with 
tenfold  force.  As  for  the  Count  de  Charolais,  never 
for  one  moment  did  he  lose  sight  of  the  terrible  oath  he 
had  sworn  against  this  town  and  the  awful  end  he  had 
in  view. 

The  chief  men  of  Dinant  waited  upon  him  with 
prayerful,  frenzied  appeal  for  clemency.  His  answer 
was  to  order  them  bound  together  and  cast  into  the 
Meuse,  and  in  the  day  following  his  entrance  wellnigh 
a  thousand  shrieking  wretches  had  gone  to  follow  them. 

Reward  without  stint  he  promised  for  the  capture  of 
Gaspard  Lenoir,  freely  offering  a  hundred  lives  in  ex- 
change, and  no  house  escaped  his  search.  Yet,  desperate 
and  willing  as  they  were,  the  people  might  only  shake 
their  heads  and  point  to  the  hills.  The  man  had  been 
driven  from  the  town  and  only  the  Ardennes  wood  might 
give  him  up.  Chagrin  at  failure  to  lay  hands  on  this  cul- 
prit served  to  spur  Count  Charles  on  to  the  consumma- 
tion of  his  task. 

Such  little  order  as  he  had  maintained  he  now  aban- 
doned. The  right  of  the  men  to  plunder  was  granted 
or  overlooked,  but  never  did  he  relax  his  interdict  for 
the  protection  of  the  women.  Amid  all  the  scenes  of 
carnage  and  desolation  they  were  as  secure  from  injury 
as  though  the  Burgundians  never  had  entered  the  town. 
But  no  man  escaped  his  vengeance.  With  each  one  a 
price  was  set.  If  it  was  forthcoming  he  was  driven  to 
21  315 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


the  gates  and  allowed  to  depart ;  if  not,  he  was  taken  to 
the  market-place  and  sold  into  slavery  to  the  highest 
bidder.  For  a  crown  four  of  these  miserable  beings 
could  be  bought  by  one  who  watched  the  market  closely. 

And  then,  two  days  after  his  entrance,  Count  Charles 
issued  his  last  proclamation.  Dinant  was  to  disappear 
from  the  face  of  the  earth;  walls,  towers,  houses, 
churches,  not  one  of  these  should  be  left  standing,  but 
stone  by  stone  levelled  to  the  ground  and  the  fragments 
borne  away.  Never  again  would  defiance  and  insult  to 
his  house  come  from  Dinant. 

The  women  and  children  would  be  allowed  to  seek 
such  asylum  as  they  might  find  in  Liege,  and  should  have 
fit  escort  thither.  The  men  should  follow  their  new 
masters  into  slavery.  Husband  should  be  torn  from  wife, 
father  from  children,  and  all  scattered  abroad  over  the 
land,  living  examples  of  the  folly  they  had  committed. 

One  heart-rending  wail  arose  from  the  stricken  people 
as  they  listened  to  the  heralds'  pronouncement  of  this. 
God  knows  what  such  a  fate  meant  for  most  of  these 
women  driven  from  home  without  friend  or  any  who 
might  do  aught  for  them ! 

The  piteous  cry  arose  to  the  room  in  the  town-hall 
where  Count  Charles  sat  in  conference  with  the  con- 
stable; but  not  by  one  muscle  did  his  stern  features 
change.  An  aide  placed  a  parchment  before  him,  and, 
glancing  it  over,  he  rapidly  scrawled  his  name  thereto. 
It  was  an  order  directing  the  assembly  of  the  women  and 
their  departure  that  very  afternoon  at  the  hour  of  four. 

In  the  gloom  of  Rochet's  cellar,  chained  to  opposite 
sides  of  the  wall,  one  might  have  thought  the  Sieur 
Giraud  and  Monsieur  Vignolles  in  sad  position  to  learn 
aught  of  all  this.  Yet  only  one  would  have  thought  so 

316 


A   BREAK   IN   THE   LINES 


who  knew  not  the  nature  of  Crepin  Brune.  To  leave 
these  two  to  their  own  reflections  or  such  talk  as  they 
might  find  was  to  make  too  great  a  sacrifice  of  pleas- 
ure, and  the  man  could  no  sooner  have  refrained  from 
taunting  them  with  their  approaching  end  than  he 
could  have  done  an  honest  deed.  Therefore  he  had 
taken  care  to  keep  them  well  informed  of  the  progress 
of  affairs. 

He  had  sought  audience  with  Count  Charles  on  the 
day  of  his  entrance,  but  in  the  stress  of  other  matters 
the  count  had  had  no  mind  for  him. 

A  half -score  Burgundian  troopers  had  been  quartered 
upon  Rochet,  and  he  had  been  for  turning  the  prisoners 
over  to  them.  But  Crepin  would  hear  naught  of  it  and 
imposed  secrecy  on  his  followers,  for  he  had  no  mind  to 
lose  any  part  of  the  credit  and  reward  he  saw  before 
him.  By  his  direction  the  Burgundians  were  received 
with  open  arms,  and  with  plentiful  supplies  of  liquor 
kept  in  good  humour.  Nor  had  these  men  any  thought 
of  plunder,  for  Crepin,  Rochet,  and  the  rest  were  little 
short  of  vagabonds  who  lived  from  hand  to  mouth. 
Therefore  they  never  thought  of  searching  the  house, 
as  otherwise  they  would  have  done.  Often  the  noise  of 
their  carousals  penetrated  to  the  cellar. 

One  thing  alone  was  of  some  solace  to  the  two  in 
their  cheerless  prison,  and  that  was  the  knowledge  that 
whatever  else  might  have  overtaken  the  Lady  Agathe 
and  Marcelle,  at  all  events  Crepin  knew  naught  of  them. 
Else  they  made  no  doubt  he  scarce  would  have  refrained 
from  mentioning  it  as  something  with  which  still  further 
to  harry  them. 

On  the  day  set  for  the  departure  of  the  women 
Crepin  had  omitted  his  usual  visit  to  them.  At  noon 
one  of  the  men  had  entered  and  thrust  a  loaf  and  some 

317 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


water  within  reach  of  them  and  then  taken  himself  off 
without  a  word. 

The  house  had  become  strangely  silent  as  the  after- 
noon wore  on,  and  they  were  idly  speculating  as  to  the 
cause  when  suddenly  there  came  a  loud  tramping  of  feet 
overhead,  and,  a  moment  later,  the  rickety  stairs  leading 
to  the  cellar  groaned  with  the  descent  of  a  body  of  men. 
The  heavy  bars  before  the  door  fell  with  a  clatter  and  the 
light  of  a  lantern  streamed  within. 

This  latter  swung  from  the  arm  of  Crepin,  and  be- 
hind him  came  Captain  Chaubran  and  a  dozen  archers 
of  the  guard. 

"  There,  captain,  is  your  game,"  said  Crepin  glee- 
fully, extending  the  lantern  so  that  its  rays  first  fell  upon 
the  Sieur  Giraud,  then  on  Monsieur  Vignolles. 

"Saints!  the  pen  is  close  enough!"  cried  Chaubran, 
and  sniffed  the  air  with  much  disrelish,  then  turned  to 
the  Sieur  Giraud,  "  Ha,  we  meet  again,  it  seems,  Sieur 
Giraud!  Last  time  you  wellnigh  did  for  me  yonder  in 
the  hills ;  but  I've  no  license  to  square  matters.  You  both 
go  to  settle  your  account  with  one  who  outranks  me." 

Neither  made  any  reply.  Too  often  had  they  looked 
forward  to  this  hour — spoken  hopelessly  of  it — to  have 
any  mind  for  this  fool's  words. 

"  Strike  off  their  irons !  "  went  on  Chaubran,  seeing 
that  they  paid  no  heed,  and  some  of  the  men  fell  to  cut- 
ting the  rivets  that  bound  them. 

But  Crepin's  joy  permitted  no  quiet. 

"  Remember  the  lash — remember  the  lash  I  had  the 
first  day  you  came  to  the  camp,"  he  sneered  at  the  Sieur 
Giraud.  "  Ha !  I  told  you  I'd  ne'er  forget  those  welts. 
Perchance,  also,  you'll  have  mind  for  that  night  above- 
stairs  when  you  wellnigh  did  for  me,  even  as  the  captain 
says  you  served  him.  But  times  are  changed,  eh?  I 


A   BREAK  IN   THE   LINES 


have  seen,  I  have  talked  with  Charl — with  the  Count  de 
Charolais,  and  this  is  my  hour !  " 

"  The  devil  choke  you  with  your  own  tongue !  "  cried 
Chaubran.  "  The  man  has  enough  to  face  without  your 
gibing!  "  and,  turning  to  the  other,  "  Saints!  think  not  I 
hold  such  spite  myself,  Sieur  Giraud,  for,  by  my  faith, 
were  matters  different,  we'd  settle  our  affair  above-board 
and  with  the  sword,  not  with  such  ill-natured  ranting  as 
this  dog  does  utter !  " 

"  I  thank  you,  captain,"  answered  the  Sieur  Giraud, 
as  his  irons  fell  from  him,  "  but  methinks  we  shall 
scarce  have  opportunity  for  the  sport  you  suggest.  You 
come  to  take  us  before  my  lord  count,  I  make  no  doubt. 
Let  us  then  be  on  our  way." 

"  Ay,  captain,"  joined  in  Monsieur  Vignolles,  "  and 
thank  God  for  the  sight  of  an  honest  face  again  and  the 
chance  of  a  breath  of  air  from  heaven.  Lead  on !  " 

Chaubran  looked  hard  into  their  faces  and  shook  his 
head  as  though  the  task  were  little  to  his  taste,  then  gave 
the  order  to  withdraw.  Slowly  the  party  mounted  the 
stairs,  traversed  the  house,  and  set  forth  up  the  street; 
slowly,  because  those  men  they  escorted  might  not  take 
more  rapid  pace.  Of  the  two,  Monsieur  Vignolles  was 
the  weaker  from  his  longer  confinement,  and  leaned 
heavily  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  Sieur  Giraud.  Yet 
within  the  cordon  of  archers  about  them  they  both  car- 
ried their  heads  high  enough,  and  those  in  the  surround- 
ing crowd  of  soldiery  who  would  have  jeered  fell  silent 
at  the  sight.  Many  there  were,  too,  who  knew  them — 
who  had  served  with  the  one  or  the  other — and  to  these 
there  was  naught  pleasing  in  the  sight  of  these  stagger- 
ing, wounded  men  going  to  their  doom. 

But  close  behind  marched  Crepin  with  his  straggling 
band,  and  to  them  the  sight  was  very  good. 

319 


Straight  toward  the  market-place  Chaubran  led  the 
way,  his  archers  thrusting  the  curious  back  with  small 
ceremony,  and  ere  long  they  debouched  from  the  nar- 
row street  into  the  square.  A  double  line  of  archers 
and  foot-soldiers  held  it  on  all  sides ;  but  at  Chaubran's 
word,  those  before  him  gave  way  long  enough  for  his 
party  to  pass  through. 

Before  the  steps  of  the  town-hall  the  Count  de  Charo- 
lais  and  the  constable  sat  motionless  as  statues  in  their 
saddles,  and  some  paces  from  them  the  staff  looked  on 
in  silence.  In  truth,  a  very  hush  had  fallen  over  the 
place,  save  for  the  stamping  of  some  iron-shod  hoof,  or 
the  clink  of  a  curb  chain  as  a  charger  tossed  up  his 
head. 

Directly  before  Count  Charles,  Chaubran  halted 
his  men  and,  saluting,  fell  back  a  pace  so  that  his  prison- 
ers stood  alone.  Crepin  edged  his  way  forward,  till  he 
came  to  stand  beside  them. 

With  one  accord  the  two  captives  sank  to  their 
knees  before  him  who  had  been  their  master. 

Count  Charles  turned  to  the  constable. 

"At  all  events  the  knave  lied  not  to  me,  my  lord 
constable,"  he  said,  "  for  here  are  the  very  men  he  swore 
to  deliver."  Then  to  the  kneeling  figures  before  him, 
"  Rise,  you  dogs,  for  I  would  look  into  your  faces !  " 

Slowly  they  rose ;  but  there  was  naught  in  the  steady 
look  of  either  in  which  Count  Charles  could  read  the 
guilt  for  which  he  scanned  their  faces. 

"  Miserable  creatures,"  went  on  Count  Charles 
harshly,  "  I  have  had  you  brought  before  me,  ere  you 
paid  the  penalty  of  your  crimes,  that  all  might  see  the 
treatment  I  accord  a  recreant  vassal,  no  matter  what  his 
position  once  may  have  been.  You,  Monsieur  Vignolles, 
have  merited  death,  in  that,  failing  in  a  duty  set  you, 

320 


A  BREAK  IN   THE  LINES 


you  chose  to  desert  your  standard  and  to  cast  your  lot 
with  a  ragged  band  of  hill  cut-throats.  As  for  you, 
Sieur  Giraud  d'Orson,  mere  death  is  inadequate  to  ex- 
piate your  wrong,  for  not  only  did  you  join  these  cursed 
Companions  of  the  Green  Tent,  but  you  conspired  against 
my  life." 

"  My  lord  count,  that  is  a  lie !  "  cried  the  Sieur  Gi- 
raud, for  men  in  his  case  stop  not  to  weigh  words. 
"  Ne'er  had  I  aught  to  do  with  such  vile  attempt " 

"  Silence !  "  roared  the  count.  "  And  have  more 
heed  how  you  speak,  lest  I  cut  you  down  where  you 
stand.  Ha!  I  marvel  not  you  should  try  to  save  your 
scurvy  life  with  lies,  but  I  hold  the  proof  of  what  I 
say.  The  letter  that  called  me  to  the  vine-grower's — you 
will  scarce  deny  your  own  hand,  for  I  know  it  too  well 
to  make  error." 

"  Before  God,  my  lord  count,  ne'er  did  I  make  such 
request  of  you ! "  cried  the  Sieur  Giraud.  "  I  begged 
only  that  you  would  accord  me  an  early  audience." 

Count  Charles  shook  his  head  angrily. 

"  I  tell  you  your  lies  are  of  no  avail,"  he  said  sharply. 
"  I  hold  the  letter  and  am  fully  aware  of  its  contents. 
Moreover,  to  see  the  consummation  of  your  design,  you 
came  to  the  vine-grower's — you  and  monsieur  there." 

"  My  lord  count,  I  deny  it  not ;  but  this  is  all  some 
poisonous  tale  of  this  knave  Crepin  Brune.  Search  you 
the  one  who  drew  bow  upon  you  that  day  ?  Then  search 
no  longer,  for  he  it  was,  and  he  alone,  who  did  meditate 
your  death." 

"  That  I  know,"  answered  the  count  sharply,  and  the 
hearts  of  the  two  men  before  him  fell  within  them. 

The  Count  de  Charolais  knew  that  Crepin  had  sought 
his  life,  yet  spared  him  because  he  had  delivered  them 
into  his  power.  In  truth,  then,  where  was  the  good  in 

321 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


further  speech,  since  their  doom  was  so  irrevocably 
sealed  ? 

The  Sieur  Giraud  threw  up  his  head  and  looked 
Count  Charles  full  in  the  face. 

"  My  .  lord  count,  for  some  years  did  I  serve  you 
and  faithfully.  For  the  disobedience  I  was  guilty  of  I 
have  paid,  God  knows,  dearly  enough ;  and  I  am  reduced 
to  naught.  But,  for  all  I  have  become,  I  pit  not  my  word 
against  that  of  a  self-confessed  and  would-be  assassin, 
nor,  methinks,  will  Monsieur  Vignolles.  Let  this  mock- 
ery be  ended,  and  give  us  the  death  you  have  decided  on, 
rather  than  this  dishonour." 

A  moment  the  count  hesitated,  then  shrugged  his 
great  shoulders. 

"  The  speech  of  a  man  from  a  rogue's  lips,"  he  mut- 
tered. "  Yet  did  I  not  know — were  the  proof  less  strong 
— but,  bah!  'Tis  not  strange  a  man  should  fight  hard 
for  life."  Then  turning  upon  them,  "  So  shall  you  have 
the  punishment  suited  to  your  crimes;  yet  first  one 
thing  I  would  know  of  you.  The  Lady  Agathe  was  taken 
by  your  band  of  Companions,  and  afterward  came  to 
Dinant.  With  her  was  lodged  the  mad  woman  of  the 
Ardennes,  whom  I  would  give  much  to  lay  hands  on. 
Know  you  aught  of  their  whereabouts?" 

The  two  exchanged  quick  glances  and  felt  their 
hearts  leap  high  within  them.  Thank  God,  whatever 
their  own  end  might  be,  neither  the  Lady  Agathe  nor 
Marcelle  had  been  discovered  to  drag  before  this  aw- 
ful tribunal! 

"  Speak,  fools !  "  cried  Count  Charles  in  anger.  "  I 
am  in  no  mood  for  trifling !  " 

But  not  a  word  came  from  them  in  reply.  Both  knew 
that  Crepin  must  have  informed  the  count  of  the  pres- 
ence of  the  women  at  the  widow  Galiot's  house.  Both 

322 


A   BREAK  IN   THE   LINES 


now  realised  that  they  had  fled  there  and  taken  to  some 
other  hiding-place.  Was  it  possible  that  Tite  alone  had 
effected  what  he  and  the  Sieur  Giraud  had  contemplated  ? 
If  so,  ne'er  should  hint  of  it  leave  their  lips. 

"  Stubborn  knaves  you  are !  "  cried  the  count.  "  You 
would  hold  a  still  tongue,  hoping  for  some  reward;  but 
that,  by  all  the  saints,  you  may  not  expect.  I  shall  find 
these  women,  never  fear,  if  Dinant  holds  them.  As  for 
you,  my  sentence  is  that  you  be  bound  together,  you  who 
are  so  fond  of  the  same  company,  and  that  you  be  cast 
into  the  Meuse.  A  fitting  end  this  is  for  one  who  has 
been  a  soldier!  Perchance  you  will  find  some  of  your 
dear  Companions  waiting  to  welcome  you  beneath  the 
waters  yonder." 

"If  one  dies,  what  matters  the  manner  of  death?" 
said  Monsieur  Vignolles.  "As  for  the  company,  I  ask 
no  better,"  and  with  that  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  Sieur 
Giraud's  shoulder. 

On  a  sign  from  the  count,  some  foot-soldiers  ap- 
proached them  quickly,  one  bearing  a  coil  of  rope. 

Count  Charles  turned  to  speak  to  the  constable. 

As  for  Crepin,  he  grinned  broadly  from  ear  to  ear. 
His  hour,  indeed,  had  come,  and  his  eyes  seemed  glued 
to  the  rope  the  men  carried. 

The  first  man  extended  his  hand  roughly  and  drew 
the  Sieur  Giraud  and  Monsieur  Vignolles  together,  back 
to  back ;  then  reached  for  the  rope.  As  he  did  so,  a  dis- 
turbance arose  on  one  side  of  the  square  of  troops;  a 
muffled  shouting,  and  then  through  a  break  in  the  lines 
were  dragged  three  figures. 

Chaubran  saluted  and  ran  to  the  spot,  while  the  rest 
remained  speechless  with  amazement.  For  the  three, 
whom  Chaubran  met  half-way  to  the  lines,  were  the 
Lady  Agathe,  Marcelle,  and  Tite. 

323 


CHAPTER  XXI 
DAUPHINE! 

A  LOWERING  frown   contorted  the  brows   of 
Count   Charles,   and    he   raised   his    hand   to 
check    the    interruption,    then    shrugged    his 
huge  shoulders  as  though  thinking  better  of 
it,  and  waited  with  his  dark  gaze  bent  on  the  approach- 
ing party. 

The  Lady  Agathe  still  wore  the  velvet  attire  she  had 
adopted  on  coining  to  the  Companions,  and,  though  she 
was  pale,  walked  firmly  enough.  Beside  her  Marcelle 
seemed  almost  puny,  and  her  face  was  ghastly  white, 
so  that  her  great  eyes  seemed  even  larger  than  usual. 
Despite  the  fact  that  the  day  was  warm,  she  shivered 
beneath  the  cloak  that  fell  about  her  and  trailed  upon 
the  ground.  It  was  the  property  of  Tite,  and  many 
sizes  too  large.  As  for  Tite,  he  looked  neither  to  right 
nor  left  as  he  marched  stolidly  along,  yet  his  brow  was 
wrinkled  and  perchance  his  figure  not  quite  as  erect  as 
of  ordinary. 

Crepin's  face  suddenly  lost  its  grin.  What  meant 
this  new  development?  Why  was  Marcelle,  whom  they 
had  so  vainly  sought,  thrusting  herself  into  the  count's 
hands? 

"By  all  the  saints,  'tis  the  Lady  Agathe!"  ex- 
claimed Count  Charles,  recognising  her  when  she  was 
near  at  hand. 

The  constable  spurred  his  mount  a  pace  nearer. 
324 


DAUPHINE 


"  But  tell  me  not  this  insignificant  creature  with  her 
is  the  mad  woman  of  the  Ardennes !  "  he  cried.  "  If  so, 
the  devil  is  wrapped  up  in  small  enough  compass.  Cap- 
tain Chaubran,  is  this  the  woman  you  saw  in  the  hills  ?  " 

Chaubran  saluted. 

"  This  is  Marcelle  the  Mad,  my  lord  count,"  he 
answered,  and  indicated  her  with  the  point  of  his  sword. 

A  frown  crossed  the  face  of  the  Count  de  Charolais. 
Had  he  had  to  deal  with  such  a  woman  as  he  had 
imagined  Marcelle,  he  would  have  felt  the  ground  sure 
beneath  him,  but  this  slight  figure  seemed  to  him  almost 
wraith-like,  and  he  scarce  knew  how  to  begin. 

"  It  is  true,  my  lord  count ;  I  am  Marcelle." 

She  herself  had  given  him  the  lead,  yet  still  when  he 
spoke  there  was  a  certain  mistrust  in  his  tone,  as  though 
he  doubted  the  evidence  of  his  own  senses. 

"By  Our  Lady,  I  can  scarce  believe  it!"  he  mut- 
tered, then  spoke  aloud,  "  You  have  well  eluded  the 
search  that  has  been  made  for  you,  woman.  In  what 
remote  place  have  you  and  the  Lady  Agathe  lain  hid 
these  two  days?" 

A  faint  smile  hovered  over  her  features  for  a  moment, 
and  her  eyes  were  soft  with  a  great  love  as  she  turned 
and  looked  at  Tite.  Then,  again,  she  gazed  full  into  the 
face  of  Count  Charles. 

"  No  merit  is  it  of  mine  that  you  have  sought  us  in 
vain,  my  lord  count,"  she  said,  "  but  rather  of  this  dear 
heart  here,  who  has  risked  his  life  that  none  might  sus- 
pect our  retreat." 

She  laid  her  hand  softly  on  Tite's  shoulder,  then 
went  on  quickly: 

"  Nor  was  this  so  remote  as  you  think,  since  under 
the  same  roof  have  been  quartered  Captain  Chaubran 
and  some  half-dozen  of  his  men." 

325 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


Chaubran  started  forward  and  would  have  spoken, 
but  the  count  raised  his  hand  angrily. 

"So,  'tis  thus  I  am  served!"  he  cried.  "By  my 
faith,  if  this  be  true,  you  are  little  better  than  a  fool, 
captain!  Where  have  your  quarters  been?" 

"  At  the  house  of  a  wench  named  Vaucler,  in 
the  Rue  Violette — a  wench  without  a  sou,  my  lord 
count " 

Count  Charles  swore  a  fearful  oath. 

"Ay,  'tis  that,  you  fool!"  he  cried.  "Let  any  one 
of  you  catch  the  clink  of  gold  and  there  is  no  crevice 
that  may  escape  your  prying.  Too  busy  have  you  been 
elsewhere  to  have  eye  for  the  treasure  that  lay  under 
your  very  nose,  and  a  fine  chance  it  is  that  you  have  lost. 
Saints,  Captain  Chaubran,  you  would  be  the  better  for 
a  keeper,  since  three  people  may  lie  hid  in  the  same 
house  with  you !  " 

Chaubran  hung  his  head  in  some  shame  at  the 
biting  tone  used  toward  him,  then  made  essay  to  better 
matters.  . 

"  Three  of  them  were  not  hid,  my  lord  count,"  he 
said  humbly,  "  for  this  old  man  I  do  recall  now,  though 
he  wears  not  the  same  look.  'Tis  the  brother  of  the 
woman  Vaucler,  so  she  said,  who  had  become  crack- 
brained  with  age,  and  fancied  himself  a  dog.  A  driv- 
elling imbecile  he  was,  forsooth,  who  slept  on  straw  in 
a  wretched  loft  above,  and  barked  and  spat  in  the  face 
of  any  who  ventured  near  his  ladder.  Saints!  'tis  not 
I  who  would  approach  such  beast,  for  'tis  the  kind  that 
possess  the  touch  of  the  Evil  One.  Yet  the  man  is  not 
the  same  now,  and  I  knew  him  not  at  first  sight." 

He  looked  intently  at  Tite,  and  over  the  face  of  the 
latter  came  a  grim  smile. 

"  Ha!  Small  doubt  which  of  the  two  of  you  was  the 
326 


DAUPHINf 

imbecile!"  said  Count  Charles,  and  waved  Chaubran 
aside.  "  As  for  you,  old  man,"  he  went  on  to  Tite, 
"  we  shall  find  a  way  to  quiet  that  bark  of  yours,  me- 
thinks." 

Then  he  again  turned  to  Marcelle. 

"  Sooner  or  later  I  would  have  found  you,  in  any 
case,"  he  said  sharply;  "yet  I  see  not  why  you  should 
come  to  seek  the  death  that  awaits  you,  woman.  Mad 
as  you  call  yourself,  you  can  scarce  hope  for  aught 
else." 

Her  answer  came  quick  and  sure. 

"  No,  my  lord  count ;  I  come  not  to  plead  for  a 
mercy  I  may  not  expect.  Full  well  do  I  know  that  my 
blood  alone  may  atone  for  such  enmity  as  I  have  borne 
your  house.  Freely  do  I  confess  my  offence,  and  will- 
ingly shall  I  discharge  my  debt,  for  I  have  no  wish  to 
live.  But  first  I  would  meet  another  obligation  that 
God  imposes  upon  me,  the  obligation  to  acquit  the  fair 
name  of  two  men  as  unjustly  accused  as  e'er  were  men 
in  this  world." 

She  paused  and  extended  her  hand  toward  the  Sieur 
Giraud  and  Monsieur  Vignolles. 

Crepin's  face  went  white  with  the  fear  that  now 
swept  over  him,,  as  he  heard  the  measured  words  fall 
from  her  lips. 

"  You  undertake  more  than  you  can  accomplish, 
woman,"  said  Count  Charles.  "  The  proofs  are  too  clear 
to  admit  of  doubt." 

"  Yet  I  pray  that  you  will  hear  me,  my  lord  count," 
she  answered,  "  for  'tis  for  this  hour  alone  I  have  wished 
to  live;  and  surely,  'tis  small  favour  to  grant  one  who 
dies  so  soon." 

A  groan  burst  from  Tite,  and  the  tears  coursed  down 
his  furrowed  cheeks. 

327 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


"Proceed!"  said  the  count  coldly.  "I  will  hear 
your  tale." 

Marcelle  inclined  her  head  in  thanks,  then  went  on 
quickly: 

"  Then  must  I  take  you  back  to  a  day  over  a  fortnight 
ago,  my  lord  count — a  day  when,  in  the  hills  yonder,  I 
overheard  talk  between  two  men,  who  plotted  against 
your  life.  One  of  these  men  was  of  my  own  band, 
Crepin  Brune  here;  the  other  came  from  your  own 
camp  at  Namur." 

"  Ay,  the  Sieur  Giraud  d'Orson !  "  exclaimed  Count 
Charles. 

"  No ;  for  then  he  had  been  some  days  with  us,"  she 
answered.  "  The  man  was  one  I  ne'er  had  seen  before, 
and  he  came  at  the  behest  of  some  one  high  in  power, 
since  he  spoke  of  his  master  as  '  my  lord.'  " 

"Ha!  This  begins  to  be  of  interest!"  cried  the 
count. 

The  constable  bent  forward  to  adjust  his  stirrup 
leather. 

"  There,  with  naught  between  us  save  a  screen  of 
green  leaves,  I  heard  the  plan  arranged  that  was  to  do 
you  to  death,"  continued  Marcelle.  "  The  Sieur  Giraud 
was  to  be  induced  by  Crepin  Brune  to  write  you  a  letter, 
praying  for  an  interview  on  the  ground  that  he  could 
deliver  Gaspard  Lenoir  into  your  hands.  That,  you 
know,  my  lord  count;  but  you  know  not  that  the  ap- 
pointment at  the  vine-grower's  was  added  by  this  man 
who  came  to  the  hills  that  day." 

"  By  God,  there  is  a  ring  of  truth  in  what  this  woman 
says,  my  lord ! "  exclaimed  the  count,  turning  to  the 
constable.  "  Noted  you  aught  in  that  letter  that  would 
indicate  that  two  hands  had  written  it  ?  " 

The  constable  shook  his  head. 
328 


DAUPHINE 


"  My  lord  count,  the  woman  is  lying !  "  whined  Cre- 
pin.  "  'Twas  the  Sieur  Giraud  and  none  other,  as  I 
told  you,  who " 

"  Silence !  "  cried  the  count,  and  motioned  Marcelle 
to  proceed. 

"  In  our  camp,  a  little  later,  I  saw  the  Sieur  Giraud 
write  this  letter,"  she  went  on;  "  I  saw  Crepin  come  to 
him  and  the  letter  pass  from  one  to  the  other,  and  I 
know  that  'twas  given  to  the  man  from  Namur,  who 
waited." 

"  With  no  hindrance  from  you,  I'll  be  sworn,"  said 
the  count  grimly. 

"  My  lord  count,  I  am  not  here  to  clear  myself,"  she 
answered.  "  No ;  naught  did  I  put  in  the  way  of  this 
plan,  for  then,  above  all  things,  did  I  desire  its  success. 
But  pray  hear  me  out.  At  the  vine-grower's  you  know 
what  happened.  Crepin  Brune  was  hid  in  the  thicket, 
and  I  with  him,  for  I  had  stolen  after  him  when  he  left 
the  camp.  Through  a  broken  bow-string,  his  design 
failed;  broken  it  was,  because  I,  at  a  price  that  well- 
nigh  robbed  me  of  honour,  bought  the  privilege  of  re- 
maining with  him  long  enough  to  gnaw  it  nearly  in 
two." 

Crepin  gasped  aloud. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  started  forward  and  strained  his 
gaze  upon  her. 

"  Marcelle !  "  he  cried.  "  My  God,  how  I  have 
wronged  you !  " 

A  moment  she  looked  at  him,  and  smiled. 

"  You  ask  me  to  believe  too  much,  woman,"  said  the 
count.  "  You  have  said  that  you  burned  with  impa- 
tience for  my  undoing,  yet  would  have  me  believe  that 
two  days  later  you  saved  my  life." 

"  Ay,  for  in  that  time  the  Lady  Agathe  had  come 

329 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


into  my  life,  and  taught  me  that  my  way  was  not  God's 
way,"  replied  Marcelle  gently.  "  She  showed  me  the 
horror  of  this  crime  they  planned,  and  brought  a  flood 
of  light  upon  me  that  ne'er  had  I  seen  before.  To  bring 
her  into  the  hills  as  I  did  was  cruel,  cruel;  but,  thank 
God  it  was  so,  for  through  her  the  way  has  opened 
clear  before  me !  " 

The  count  looked  searchingly  at  the  Lady  Agathe. 

"  It  is  God's  truth  she  speaks,  my  lord  count,"  she 
said.  "  On  the  honour  of  my  name,  I  swear  it." 

"  Yet  these  two  were  present  at  the  vine-grower's. 
With  my  own  eyes  I  saw  them,"  he  persisted,  pointing 
to  the  two  men. 

"  Whither  they  had  gone  to  make  arrangement  for 
my  lodging  there  till  I  might  leave  the  country  for 
Dauphine,"  said  the  Lady  Agathe.  "  That  they  hap- 
pened there  at  such  an  hour  was  due,  in  the  case 
of  the  Sieur  Giraud,  to  sheer  chance.  Monsieur  Vi- 
gnolles  went,  because  of  what  I  told  him  of  this  con- 
spiracy, and  to  prevent  it,  if  possible.  For  then  I,  too, 
believed  in  the  guilt  of  the  Sieur  Giraud." 

Count  Charles  brought  his  hand  heavily  down  upon 
his  pommel. 

"  By  God,  I  do  believe  this  tale !  "  he  cried.  "  Blind 
have  I  been,  in  truth,  since  such  hellish  contrivance 
could  be  hatched  within  my  own  lines.  Yet  not  the  ves- 
tige of  a  clew  is  there  on  which  I  may  lay  my  hand. 
The  man  who  came  to  the  hills  spoke  of  his  master  as 
'my  lord.'  Saints!  how  many  such  are  there  within 
my  sight,  even  now !  " 

He  swept  his  hand  toward  the  motionless  staff,  then 
turned  upon  Crepin. 

"  Yet  you  know  the  name  of  this  master  your  accom- 
plice served,"  he  roared.  "  Out  with  it !  " 

330 


DAUPHINE 


"  Tis  all  a  lie,  my  lord  count!"  cried  Crepin. 
"  There  was  no  such  man." 

He  took  the  only  course  that  offered  him  life.  But 
the  sweat  oozed  from  him  at  every  pore.  How  different 
his  position  from  that  he  had  thought  by  now  to  occupy. 

The  constable  leaned  over  and  muttered  some  words 
in  the  count's  ear.  They  had  the  effect  of  diverting  his 
attention  again  to  Marcelle. 

"  Woman,"  he  said,  "  I  believe  your  tale,  for  the  ring 
of  truth  is  in  your  voice,  and  it  fits  well  with  what  I 
know.  And  well  it  is  for  some  of  you  others  that  it  is. 
so.  Monsieur  Vignolles,  because  I  believe  the  Lady 
Agathe's  word  that  you  would  have  prevented  that 
plot,  you  shall  go  free.  As  for  you,  my  lady,  you  have, 
it  seems,  chosen  to  consort  with  thieves  rather  than  re- 
turn to  my  protection.  If  you  could  have  gone  to  the 
vine-grower's,  you  as  well  could  have  gone  to  Namur; 
but  you  avoided  that  because  fearful  of  the  marriage  I 
contemplated  for  you.  So  be  it;  the  penalty  shall  be 
fitting.  Before  the  setting  of  the  sun  you  shall  wed 
Monsieur  Vignolles,  for  there  is  no  worse  punishment 
than  the  joining  of  an  ill-assorted  pair.  After  that,  be- 
take yourselves  to  Dauphine,  or  where  you  will,  for  I'll 
have  none  such  as  you  at  court." 

"  My  lord — "  cried  Monsieur  Vignolles,  looking  up 
from  his  knee,  to  which  he  had  fallen. 

Too  great  a  joy  was  in  his  face  to  please  the  Lady 
Agathe,  and  she  interrupted  him  in  some  haste. 

"  Too  much  have  I  endured  to  withstand  your  will 
longer,  my  lord  count,"  she  said  demurely,  and  the 
colour  was  high  in  her  cheek. 

"  'Tis  well  you  are,  at  last,  aware  that  my  will  is 
not  to  be  thwarted,"  he  replied  shortly,  and  turned  to 
Marcelle. 

22  331 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


"  Whatever  you  have  been,  woman,  you  shall  not  find 
me  ungrateful  for  the  service  you  have  rendered,"  he 
said.  "  Some  moments  ago  I  would  have  laughed  at 
the  idea  of  sparing  this  Marcelle  the  Mad.  You  have 
earned  your  life.  At  the  hour  of  four  the  women  leave 
the  town.  Join  them.  But  for  you,  Sieur  Giraud,  I 
have  no  mercy.  You  are  not  guilty  of  all  that  I  had 
thought;  but  you  have  well  merited  death  by  becoming 
a  very  leader  of  these  outlaws.  Also,  you  saw  fit  to 
lay  hands  on  Captain  Chaubran,  and  wellnigh  throttle 
him,  when  he  went  upon  my  service.  For  this  you 
shall  die." 

Marcelle  gave  a  quick  cry. 

"  My  lord  count,  I  seek  not  my  life !  I  pray  you  let 
the  Sieur  Giraud  go." 

"  I  have  spoken,"  he  answered. 

A  moment  she  stood  with  the  horror  rising  into  her 
face,  then  took  a  step  toward  him. 

"  Then,  my  lord  count,  since  you  demand  this  man's 
life,  I,  too,  demand  fulfilment  of  your  word,"  she  cried. 
"  You  have  offered  five-score  lives  for  that  of  Gaspard 
Lenoir.  I  ask  but  one,  that  of  the  Sieur  Giraud  d'Orson. 
Your  word  you  cannot  break,  my  lord  count,  and  here — 
here  is  the  price  you  ask,  Gaspard  Lenoir  himself." 

With  a  quick  jerk  she  threw  the  cloak  from  her 
shoulders  and,  tossing  her  cap  after  it,  shook  the  dark 
mass  of  her  hair  about  her  face. 

From  coarse  blouse  to  heavy  shoes  she  was  a  replica 
of  that  Lenoir  who  had  addressed  the  people  from  the 
steps  of  the  town-hall,  save  for  the  bare  upper  lip  and 
some  inexplicable  change  of  feature. 

For  a  time  no  one  spoke,  but  stood  gazing  at  the  trans- 
formation. 

"  Is  this  true  ?  "  cried  Count  Charles  finally. 
332 


DAUPHINE 


Tite  groaned  aloud. 

"  True  it  is,  my  lord  count,"  he  said.  "  I  knew 
naught  of  it  myself  till  this  day  when  she  sent  me  to  the 
old  witch's  in  the  Rue  Basse  for  the  clothes.  Oh,  have 
pity  on  her,  my  lord — have  pity !  Tis  but  a  child !  " 

"  My  lord  count,  I  hold  you  to  your  word !  "  cried 
Marcelle. 

"  I  pray  you  end  all  this,  my  lord,"  cried  the  Sieur 
Giraud.  "  I  will  not  have  my  life  at  such  a  price." 

"  God's  truth,  what  hatred  of  my  race — what  can  in- 
spire such  hatred  ?  "  exclaimed  the  count. 

Marcelle  looked  him  straight  in  the  eye. 

"  You  ask  it  ?  Then  shall  you  know,  my  lord  count," 
she  answered.  "  Two  years  ago,  in  the  palace  at  Bruges, 
there  was  a  Madame  de  Courtray — a  widow  and  her 
daughter.  Ah,  I  see  you  recall  the  name,  though  she  was 
but  a  humble  needle-woman,  and  you  ne'er  laid  eyes  upon 
her  but  once.  Monseigneur  had  gone  to  take  residence 
at  Hesdin,  and  you,  my  lord,  held  full  sway  at  Bruges. 
Let  me  pass  over  it  quickly.  You  know  how  a  certain 
nobleman  of  the  court,  failing  in  his  designs  against  this 
poor  woman,  informed  you  the  exact  opposite.  You 
chose  to  believe  his  word  rather  than  hers,  and  sent  her 
forth  into  the  world,  even  as  you  are  sending  these  other 
women  to-day.  With  the  daughter,  whom  you  had 
never  seen,  she  made  her  way  to  Liege,  changing  her 
name  to  Lenoir,  that  the  stain  you  had  cast  upon  her 
character  might  not  pursue  her.  But  always,  always,  it 
gnawed  at  her  heart,  till  a  half-year  ago  she  proved  ready 
prey  for  the  fever  then  raging  at  Liege,  and  died  in  her 
child's  arms.  I  was  that  child,  my  lord  count — left  alone 
in  the  world  with  none  to  care  whether  I  followed  her  or 
not.  By  chance,  an  old  woman  who  lives  yonder  in  the 
Rue  Basse  was  in  Liege  at  the  time,  and,  rinding  me 

333 


MARCELLE   THE   MAD 


thus,  brought  me  to  Dinant.  Here  all  hated  your  name, 
and  I  more  than  any  of  them.  In  a  mad  moment  the 
thought  of  assuming  man's  attire  struck  me,  for  so  I 
might  join  the  wretched  rabble  and  go  about  with  greater 
safety,  and  the  old  woman  showed  me  how  to  change  my 
features  with  chalks  and  made  me  a  false  growth  of  hair 
for  the  lip.  By  night  this  served  well  enough,  and  ne'er 
did  I  appear  in  such  garb  by  day.  You  had  driven  my 
mother  forth  with  the  worst  stamp  that  may  be  set  upon 
woman,  into  poverty  and  death.  Do  you  still  marvel,  my 
lord  count,  that  I  should  have  raved  against  you ;  that 
I  should  willingly  have  sought  your  life,  or  that  I  should 
have  helped  cast  over  the  walls  of  Bouvignes  that  effigy 
with  its  bar  sinister?  It  was  unwomanly  and  coarse,  but, 
my  God,  what  was  your  treatment  of  me  ?  " 

Count  Charles  tapped  his  pommel  sharply,  but  found 
difficulty  in  arranging  his  thoughts. 

"  For  the  rest,  I  have  lived  the  wild  life  of  the  hills, 
for  I  took  to  it  gladly,"  went  on  Marcelle  quietly. 
"  None  of  the  band  knew  that  Gaspard  Lenoir  and  I  were 
one  till  I  told  Tite  to-day.  Had  I  my  life  to  live  again 
I  would  do  differently,  for  I  have  come  to  know  that 
vengeance  is  but  of  small  moment.  But  my  race  is  run. 
Thank  God  that,  worthless  as  it  is,  my  life  may  yet  save 
another's!  I  am  ready,  my  lord  count.  You  may  not 
renounce  your  word." 

A  great  earnestness  was  in  her  eyes,  and  the  count 
seemed  to  turn  to  avoid  her  look. 

"  I  do  not  renounce  my  word,"  he  said. 

"  My  lord,  I  beg  of  you  pay  her  no  heed !  "  cried  the 
Sieur  Giraud.  "  Good  God,  I  cannot  accept  my  life  in 
this  way !  " 

The  count  raised  himself  in  the  saddle  and  looked 
hard  at  Marcelle. 

354 


DAUPHINE 


"  You  would  die  for  this  man,  Marcelle  de  Court- 
ray — and  why  ?  " 

A  moment  she  hesitated,  then,  with  a  wonderful 
light  in  her  great  eyes,  spoke  so  gently  that  they  could 
scarce  catch  her  words. 

"  Ay,  I  would  die  for  him  were  it  not  one  life  I  had 
to  give,  but  more  than  you  offered  in  exchange  for  poor 
Lenoir.  O  God,  I  have  crowded  it  down  in  my  heart  till 
the  very  barriers  may  hold  no  longer;  nor  need  they 
now,  for  the  confession  of  a  dying  woman  may  do  no  one 
an  injury.  I  would  die  because  I  love  this  man  with  a 
passion  that  seems  to  bear  me  into  the  very  air." 

She  turned  and  seemed  to  forget  the  others'  presence, 
and  the  light  of  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  Sieur  Giraud. 

"  It  is  the  impossible,  I  know,"  she  said  softly,  "  yet 
hear  it  as  the  last  word  of  one  who  will  soon  be  gone. 
That  first  day  in  the  hills  when  you  came  to  me  broken, 
disheartened,  and  ready  to  welcome  death,  it  surged  into 
my  heart.  If  I  kept  you  to  the  oath  you  had  sworn  it 
was  because  my  very  soul  clung  to  yours  and  all  the  light 
of  the  world  would  have  been  gone  with  your  release. 
How  I  yearned  for  one  word  of  that  love  my  own  love 
seemed  to  merit!  How  the  mere  touch  of  your  hand 
thrilled  me  from  head  to  foot !  But  you,  Sieur  Giraud — 
you  had  no  thought  for  me.  You  saw  naught  in  what  I 
did  or  said  but  the  madness  you  believed  possessed  me, 
and  so  would  pass  me  by.  Yet  still  I  would  not  give 
up  hope.  What  manner  of  woman  was  it  that  could 
rouse  your  love  ?  To  learn  this  I  seized  the  Lady  Agathe 
and  had  her  brought  to  me.  Could  I  poison  her  mind 
against  you,  perchance  you  would  spare  thought  for  me. 
I  did  and  still  I  was  naught;  I  was  not  given  a  thought ; 
I  was  something  beneath  you,  low  as  you  had  fallen — 
Marcelle  the  Outcast,  Marcelle  the  Mad.  I  know  it  now. 

335 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


It  came  to  me  the  same  night  some  one  stoned  me  as  I 
ran  through  the  streets,  so  that  barely  had  I  strength  to 
change  from  Lenoir  to  Marcelle  and  reach  the  house. 
Then  I  gave  up  the  fight  and  longed  to  die.  Yet  even 
now  my  lord  count  bestows  the  one  you  love  on  another. 
I  am  sorry,  Sieur  Giraud ;  I  am  sorry ;  but  I  have  done 
what  I  could.  Forgive  me  for  all  I  have  done  against 
you,  for  I  have  been  blind  to  all  save  the  love  that  mas- 
tered me,  and  my  very  reason  was  torn  to  shreds  with 
hopeless  longing." 

With  no  thought  of  the  time  and  place  the  Sieur 
Giraud  dashed  the  archers  from  him  and  sprang  to  her 
side. 

"  No,  no,  Marcelle,  it  is  not  you  who  have  been  blind, 
dear  heart,"  he  cried,  and  took  her  in  his  arms,  "  but 
thank  God  that  my  own  eyes  at  last  are  open.  It  has 
never  been  the  Lady  Agathe ;  never  since  that  day  when 
you  came  to  me  at  my  post  on  the  hills  yonder.  Plain 
enough  is  it  now,  dear ;  yet  then  did  I  delude  myself  with 
vain  hopes,  so  that  all  else  was  blurred  to  my  sight. 
Marcelle,  look  up,  dearest,  look  up,  that  you  may  read 
in  my  eyes  the  light  that  has  come  upon  me.  I  love 
you,  Marcelle,  I  love  you." 

Yet  it  was  not  Marcelle  who  looked  up  into  his  eyes, 
for,  as  the  glowing  sun  opens  the  petals  of  the  lily,  so 
had  his  words  transformed  her  into  some  radiant  spirit. 

"  O  God !  "  she  murmured,  and  her  eyes  sought  the 
blue  above. 

Then  she  lay  quite  quiet  in  his  arms,  and  the  eyes  of 
the  two  clung  together.  They  dreamed  not  that  they 
were  not  alone. 

Count  Charles  sat  motionless  before  them,  and  his 
look  was  far  away. 

Of  a  sudden  Crepin  sprang  forward. 
336 


DAUPHIN£ 

"  My  lord  count,  my  lord  count,  yonder  is  the  man  I 
met  in  the  wood — yonder,  behind  the  archers !  " 

Faced  now  with  certain  death,  the  man's  eye  had  by 
chance  lit  upon  the  messenger  who  had  come  into  the 
Ardennes  to  arrange  with  him  for  the  count's  death.  It 
was  a  last  desperate  chance  and  instinctively  he  leaped 
forward. 

The  ugly  knife  in  his  hand  he  had  drawn  some 
moments  before — against  the  time  when  they  should  seize 
him — and  kept  concealed  beneath  his  jerkin.  Now,  in 
his  excitement  at  sight  of  the  man  as  he  sprang  forward, 
he  drew  it  forth  and  raised  it  high  to  point  the  man  out 
to  Count  Charles. 

The  great  sword  of  the  constable  rasped  from  its 
sheath,  flashed  in  the  dying  sunlight,  and  descended  full 
upon  Crepin's  head. 

An  instant  he  tottered,  then  the  knife  flew  from  his 
hand  and  he  fell  in  a  huddled  heap,  his  skull  split  from 
crown  to  chin. 

Count  Charles,  who  had  turned  to  follow  Crepin's 
first  gesture,  faced  about  in  time  to  see  this. 

The  constable  silently  pointed  to  the  fallen  knife. 

A  moment  Count  Charles  sat  quiet,  then  said  coolly : 

"  Yes,  methinks  you  struck  in  good  time,  my  lord  con- 
stable, and  I  must  thank  you  for  my  life.  Yet  now  we 
may  not  know  whose  man  it  was  who  went  into  the  hills 
on  such  errand.  'Tis  a  pity." 

The  constable  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  shot  his 
blade  home  softly. 

At  that  moment  the  great  bell  over  their  heads 
sounded  the  hour  of  four. 

Instantly  the  archers  on  one  side  of  the  square  opened 
out  to  afford  passage  from  the  street  behind.  The  sharp 
roll  of  drums  mingled  with  the  blare  of  trumpets, 

337 


MARCELLE  THE   MAD 


and  from  far  away  up  the  street  came  a  low  moaning 
sound. 

The  count  threw  his  head  up,  and  Tite  chancing  to 
catch  his  eye,  he  cried: 

"  Seize  that  man !  For  what  he  has  done  I  fix  his 
price  at  two  hundred  golden  crowns.  If  he  may  not  pay 
it  let  him  be  sold  like  the  others  for  what  he  will  fetch." 

The  Lady  Agathe  stepped  forward  quickly. 

"  At  the  price  you  set  I  claim  the  man,  my  lord 
count,"  she  said  quietly.  "  I  shall  find  use  for  him  in 
Dauphine." 

The  count  bowed  coldly,  and  turned  his  attention  to 
the  procession  now  entering  the  square.  Alas,  what  a 
pitiful  progress  this ! 

Between  two  unyielding  lines  of  mounted  men-at- 
arms  marched  these  forlorn  and  wailing  women  of 
Dinant,  with  such  of  their  possessions  as  might  find 
lodgment  on  their  drooping  backs.  With  them,  boys  and 
maidens,  adding  their  shrill  clamour  to  the  scene,  and 
toddling  little  ones  wide-eyed  with  wonder  at  these 
strange  doings,  and  clinging,  as  best  they  might,  to  their 
mothers'  kirtles.  Oh,  miserable  beings!  what — what  is 
there  left  in  life  for  you? 

And  now  as  they  draw  nearer,  here  are  Petite  Maman 
and  Bonne  Fleuron  in  the  very  van,  looking  in  vain  for 
that  aid  Crepin  had  promised  them.  Among  the  others, 
the  widow  Galiot  and  Madame  Vaucler  rending  the  air 
with  their  cries  and  lamentations. 

Small  wonder  it  was  that  hardened,  rough  men  on 
the  staff  should  turn  their  heads  from  such  scene. 

The  Sieur  Giraud  felt  Marcelle  tremble  within  his 
arms.  As  for  their  fate,  he  made  no  doubt  that  Count 
Charles  meant  death  for  both  of  them  now,  yet  a  great 
peace  was  upon  the  two,  and  they  scarce  noticed  when 

338 


DAUPHINE 


the  procession  came  to  a  halt  on  a  sign  from  the  count. 
But  something  in  the  sudden  silence  that  ensued  made 
them  both  look  up. 

The  count's  eye  was  upon  them.  Without  a  word  he 
motioned  them  to  join  the  sad  throng. 

"Dauphine!"  muttered  Monsieur  Vignolles,  "  Dau- 
phine ! " 

The  next  moment  they  were  within  the  lines  of  steel, 
the  Sieur  Giraud  holding  Marcelle  close  to  his  breast,  as 
he  might  have  carried  one  of  the  children  at  his  side. 
The  trumpets  again  sounded  their  brazen  notes,  the  wail- 
ing began  afresh,  and  on — on  moved  the  heaving  multi- 
tude toward  the  gates  and  the  dread  despair  without. 

The  dying  sun  hung  red  over  the  hills  before  them, 
yet,  to  two  hearts  amidst  all  this  anguish,  it  boded  not 
the  coming  of  the  darkness.  To  them  the  sky  was  radiant 
with  the  growing  dawn — the  dawn  of  hope — of  life,  of 
love — and  ever  in  their  ears  the  soft  wind  from  the  plain 
whispered,  "Dauphine!  Dauphine!" 


(i) 


THE    END 


339 


WHERE    LOVE    CONQUERS, 

The  Reckoning. 

By  ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS. 

The  author's  intention  is  to  treat,  in  a  series  of  four  or  five 
romances,  that  part  of  the  war  for  independence  which  particularly 
affected  the  great  landed  families  of  northern  New  York,  the 
Johnsons,  represented  by  Sir  William,  Sir  John,  Guy  Johnson,  and 
Colonel  Claus ;  the  notorious  Butlers,  father  and  son,  the  Schuylers, 
Van  Rensselaers,  and  others. 

The  first  romance  of  the  series,  Cardigan,  was  followed  by  the 
second,  The  Maid-at-Arms.  The  third,  in  order,  is  not  completed. 
The  fourth  is  the  present  volume. 

As  Cardigan  pretended  to  portray  life  on  the  baronial  estate  of 
Sir  William  Johnson,  the  first  uneasiness  concerning  the  coming 
trouble,  the  first  discordant  note  struck  in  the  harmonious  councils 
of  the  Long  House,  so,  in  The  Maid-at-Arms,  which  followed  in 
order,  the  author  attempted  to  paint  a  patroon  family  disturbed  by 
the  approaching  rumble  of  battle.  That  romance  dealt  with  the 
first  serious  split  in  the  Iroquois  Confederacy ;  it  showed  the  Long 
House  shattered  though  not  fallen ;  the  demoralization  and  final 
flight  of  the  great  landed  families  who  remained  loyal  to  the  British 
Crown ;  and  it  struck  the  key-note  to  the  future  attitude  of  the 
Iroquois  toward  the  patriots  of  the  frontier — revenge  for  their 
losses  at  the  battle  of  Oriskany — and  ended  with  the  march  of  the 
militia  and  continental  troops  on  Saratoga. 

The  third  romance,  as  yet  incomplete  and  unpublished,  deals 
with  the  war-path  and  those  who  followed  it  led  by  the  landed 
gentry  of  Tryon  County;  and  ends  with  the  first  solid  blow  de- 
livered at  the  Long  House,  and  the  terrible  punishment  of  the 
Great  Confederacy. 

The  present  romance,  the  fourth  in  chronological  order,  picks 
up  the  thread  at  that  point. 

The  author  is  not  conscious  of  having  taken  any  liberties  with 
history  in  preparing  a  framework  of  facts  for  a  mantle  of  romance. 

ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS. 
NEW  YORK,  May  26,  1904. 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY.  NEW  YORK. 


WORKS  OF  ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS. 


IOLE 

Colored  inlay  on  the  cover,  decorative  borders,  head- 
pieces, thumb-nail  sketches,  and  tail-pieces.  Frontispiece 
and  three  full-page  illustrations.  i2mo.  Ornamental 
Cloth,  $1.25. 

Does  anybody  remember  the  opera  of  The  Inca,  and  that  heart-breaking 
episode  where  the  Court  Undertaker,  in  a  morbid  desire  to  increase  his  pro- 
fessional skill,  deliberately  accomplishes  the  destruction  of  his  middle-aged 
relatives  in  order  to  inter  them  for  the  sake  of  practice  ? 

If  I  recollect,  his  dismal  confession  runs  something  like  this : 
"  It  was  in  bleak  November 
When  I  slew  them,  I  remember, 
As  I  caught  them  unawares 
Drinking  tea  in  rocking-chairs." 

And  so  he  talked  them  to  death,  the  subject  being  "What  Really  Is  Art?" 
Afterward  he  was  sorry — 

"  The  squeak  of  a  door, 

The  creak  of  a  floor, 
My  horrors  and  fears  enhance  ; 
And  I  wake  with  a  scream 
As  I  hear  in  my  dream 
The  shrieks  of  my  maiden  aunts  ! " 

Now  it  is  a  very  dreadful  thing  to  suggest  that  those  highly  respectable 
pseudo-spinsters,  the  Sister  Arts,  supposedly  cozily  immune  in  their  polyga- 
mous chastity  (for  every  suitor  for  favor  is  popularly  expected  to  be  wedded  to 
his  particular  art) — I  repeat,  it  is  very  dreadful  to  suggest  that  these  impeccable 
old  ladies  are  in  danger  of  being  talked  to  death. 

But  the  talkers  are  talking  and  Art  Nouveau  rockers  are  rocking,  and  the 
trousers  of  the  prophet  are  patched  with  stained  glass,  and  it  is  a  day  of  dinki- 
ness  and  of  thumbs. 

Let  us  find  comfort  in  the  ancient  proverb  :  "  Art  talked  to  death  shall  rise 
again."  Let  us  also  recollect  that  "Dinky  is  as  dinky  does;"  that  "All  Li 
not  Shaw  that  Bernards  ; "  that  "  Better  Yeates  than  Clever  ; "  that  words  are 
so  inexpensive  that  there  is  no  moral  crime  in  robbing  Henry  to  pay  James. 

Firmly  believing  all  this,  abjuring  all  atom-pickers,  slab  furniture,  and 
woodchuck  literature — save  only  the  immortal  verse : 

"  And  there  the  wooden-chuck  doth  tread  ; 

While  from  the  oak  trees'  tops 
The  red,  red  squirrel  on  the  head 
The  frequent  acorn  drops." 

Abjuring,  as  I  say,  dinkiness  in  all  its  forms,  we  may  still  hope  that  those 
cleanly  and  respectable  spinsters,  the  Sister  Arts,  will  continue  throughout  the 
ages,  rocking  and  drinking  tea  unterrified  by  the  million-tongued  clamor  in 
the  back  yard  and  below  stairs,  where  thumb  and  forefinger  continue  the 
question  demanded  by  intellectual  exhaustion  : 

"  L'arr  I     Kesker  say  1'arr  ?  " 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


THE  MASTERPIECE  OF  A  MASTER  MIND. 

The  Prodigal  Son. 

By  HALL  CAINE.    i2mo,  Ornamental  Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  The  Prodigal  Son  "  follows  the  lines  of  the  Bible  para- 
ble in  the  principal  incidents,  but  in  certain  important 
particulars  it  departs  from  them.  In  a  most  convincing 
way,  and  with  rare  beauty,  the  story  shows  that  Christ's 
parable  is  a  picture  of  heavenly  mercy,  and  not  of  human 
justice,  and  if  it  were  used  as  an  example  of  conduct  among 
men  it  would  destroy  all  social  conditions  and  disturb  ac- 
cepted laws  of  justice.  The  book  is  full  of  movement  and 
incident,  and  must  appeal  to  the  public  by  its  dramatic 
story  alone.  The  Prodigal  Son  at  the  close  of  the  book 
has  learned  this  great  lesson,  and  the  meaning  of  the  parable 
is  revealed  to  him.  Neither  success  nor  fame  can  ever  wipe 
out  the  evil  of  the  past.  It  is  not  from  the  unalterable  laws 
of  nature  and  life  that  forgiveness  can  be  hoped  for. 

"Since  'The  Manxman'  Hall  Caine  has  written  nothing  so  moving 
in  its  elements  of  pathos  and  tragedy,  so  plainly  marked  with  the  power 
to  search  the  human  heart  and  reveal  its  secret  springs  of  strength  and 
weakness,  its  passion  and  strife,  so  sincere  and  satisfying  as  '  The  Prodi- 
gal Son.'  " — New  York  Times. 

"  It  is  done  with  supreme  self-confidence,  and  the  result  is  a  work 
of  genius." — New  York  Evening  Post. 

"  '  The  Prodigal  Son'  will  hold  the  reader's  attention  from  cover  to 
cover." — Philadelphia  Record. 

"  This  is  one  of  Hall  Caine's  best  novels — one  that  a  large  portion 
of  the  fiction-reading  public  will  thoroughly  enjoy." 

— Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"  It  is  a  notable  piece  of  fiction." — Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

"  In  'The  Prodigal  Son'  Hall  Caine  has  produced  his  greatest  work." 

— Boston  Herald. 

"  Mr.  Caine  has  achieved  a  work  of  extraordinary  merit,  a  fiction  as 
finely  conceived,  as  deftly  constructed,  as  some  of  the  best  work  of  ouf 
living  novelists." — London  Daily  Mail. 

"  '  The  Prodigal  Son '  is  indeed  a  notable  novel ;  and  a  work  that 
may  certainly  rank  with  the  best  of  recent  fiction.  .  .  ." 

—  Westminster  Gazette, 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


"A  beautiful  romance  of  the  days  of  Robert  Burns." 

Nancy  Stair. 

A  Novel.  By  ELINOR  MACARTNEY  LANE,  author 
of  "  Mills  of  God."  Illustrated.  i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  With  very  much  the  grace  and  charm  of  Robert  Louis 
Stevenson,  the  author  of  *  The  Life  of  Nancy  Stair '  com- 
bines unusual  gifts  of  narrative,  characterization,  color,  and 
humor.  She  has  also  delicacy,  dramatic  quality,  and  that 
rare  gift — historic  imagination. 

"  '  The  Life  of  Nancy  Stair '  is  interesting  from  the  first 
sentence  to  the  last ;  the  characters  are  vital  and  are,  also, 
most  entertaining  company;  the  denouement  unexpected 
and  picturesque  and  cleverly  led  up  to  from  one  of  the 
earliest  chapters;  the  story  moves  swiftly  and  without  a 
hitch.  Robert  Burns  is  neither  idealized  nor  caricatured ; 
Sandy,  Jock,  Pitcairn,  Danvers  Carmichael,  and  the  Duke 
of  Borthewicke  are  admirably  relieved  against  each  other, 
and  Nancy  herself  as  irresistible  as  she  is  natural.  To  be 
sure,  she  is  a  wonderful  child,  but  then  she  manages  to 
make  you  believe  she  was  a  real  one.  Indeed,  reality  and 
naturalness  are  two  of  the  charms  of  a  story  that  both 
reaches  the  heart  and  engages  the  mind,  and  which  can 
scarcely  fail  to  make  for  itself  a  large  audience.  A  great 
deal  of  delightful  talk  and  interesting  incidents  are  used  for 
the  development  of  the  story.  Whoever  reads  it  will  advise 
everybody  he  knows  to  read  it ;  and  those  who  do  not  care 
for  its  literary  quality  cannot  escape  the  interest  of  a  love- 
story  full  of  incident  and  atmosphere." 

"  Powerfully  and  attractively  written." — Pittsburg  Post. 

^    "  A  story  best  described  with  the  word  '  charming.' " 

—  Washington  Post, 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,    NEW    YORK. 


WIT,  SPARKLING,  SCINTILLATING  WIT, 
IS  THE  ESSENCE  OF 

Kate  of  Kate  Hall, 

By  ELLEN  THORNEYCROFT  FOWLER, 

whose  reputation  was  made  by  her  first  book, 
"  Concerning  Isabel  Carnaby,"  and  enhanced  by  her 
last  success,  "  Place  and  Power." 

"  In  '  Kate  of  Kate  Hall,'  by  Ellen  Thorneycroft  Fowler,  the  ques- 
tion of  imminent  concern  is  the  marriage  of  super-dainty,  peppery, 
tempered  Lady  Katharine  Clare,  whose  wealthy  godmother,  erstwhile 
deceased,  has  left  her  a  vast  fortune,  on  condition  that  she  shall  be 
wedded  within  six  calendar  months  from  date  of  the  testator's  death. 

"An  easy  matter,  it  would  seem,  for  bonny  Kate,  notwithstanding 
her  aptness  at  sharp  repartee,  is  a  morsel  fit  for  the  gods. 

"  The  accepted  suitor  appears  in  due  time  ;  but  comes  to  grief  at  the 
last  moment  in  a  quarrel  with  Lady  Kate  over  a  kiss  bestowed  by  her 
upon  her  godmother's  former  man  of  affairs  and  secretary.  This  inci- 
dent she  haughtily  refuses  to  explain.  Moreover,  she  shatters  the  bond 
of  engagement,  although  but  three  weeks  remain  of  the  fatal  six  months. 
She  would  rather  break  stones  on  the  road  all  day  and  sleep  in  a 
pauper's  grave  all  night,  than  marry  a  man  who,  while  professing  to  love 
her,  would  listen  to  mean  and  malicious  gossips  picked  up  by  tell-tales 
in  the  servants'  hall. 

"  So  the  great  estate  is  likely  to  be  lost  to  Kate  and  her  debt-ridden 
father,  Lord  Claverley.  How  it  is  conserved  at  last,  and  gloomy  appre- 
hension chased  away  by  dazzling  visions  of  material  splendor — that  is 
the  author's  well-kept  secret,  not  to  be  shared  here  with  a  careless  and 
indolent  public." — Philadelphia  North  American. 

"  The  long-standing  reproach  that  women  are  seldom  'humorists 
seems  in  a  fair  way  of  passing  out  of  existence.  Several  contemporary 
feminine  writers  have  at  least  sufficient  sense  of  humor  to  produce  char- 
acters as  deliciously  humorous  as  delightful.  Of  such  order  is  the 
Countess  Claverley,  made  whimsically  real  and  lovable  in  the  recent 
book  by  Ellen  Thorneycroft  Fowler  and  A.  L.  Felkin,  « Kate  of  K»te 
Hall.'  "—Chicago  Record-Herald. 

" '  Kate  of  Kate  Hall '  is  a  novel  in  which  Ellen  Thorneycroft  Fowler 
displays  her  brilliant  abilities  at  their  best  The  story  is  well  constructed, 
the  plot  develops  beautifully,  the  incidents  are  varied  and  brisk,  and  the 
dialogue  is  deliciously  clever." — Rochester  Democrat  and  Chronicle. 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


LOVE.  MYSTERY.  VENICE. 


The  Clock  and  the  Key. 

By  ARTHUR  HENRY  VESEY.  i2mo.  Ornamental 
Cloth,  $1.50. 

This  is  a  tale  of  a  mystery  connected  with  an  old  clock. 
The  lover,  an  American  man  of  means,  is  startled  out  of 
his  sensuous,  inactive  life  in  Venice  by  his  lady-love's  scorn 
for  his  indolence.  She  begs  of  him  to  perform  any  task 
that  will  prove  his  persistence  and  worth.  With  the  charm 
of  Venice  as  a  background,  one  follows  the  adventures  of 
the  lover  endeavoring  to  read  the  puzzling  hints  of  the  old 
clock  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  the  famous  jewels  of  many 
centuries  ago.  After  following  many  false  clues  the  lover 
ultimately  solves  the  mystery,  triumphs  over  his  rivals,  and 
wins  the  girl. 

AMERICA. 

"  For  an  absorbing  story  it  would  be  hard  to  beat." — Harper's  Weekly. 

ENGLAND. 

"  It  will  hold  the  reader  till  the  last  page." — London  Times. 

SCOTLAND. 

"  It  would  hardly  suffer  by  comparison  with  Poe's  immortal '  Gold  Bug.' " 
^Glasgow  Herald. 

NORTH. 

"  It  ought  to  make  a  record." — Montreal  Sun. 

SOUTH. 

4 '  It  is  as  fascinating  in  its  way  as  the  Sherlock  Holmes  stories — charming 
—unique." — New  Orleans  Picayune. 

EAST. 

"  Don't  fail  to  get  it."— New  York  Sun. 

WEST. 

"About  the  most  ingeniously  constructed  bit  of  sensational  fiction  that 
ever  made  the  weary  hours  speed." — St.  Paul  Pioneer  Press. 

"If  you  want  a  thrilling  story  of  intrigue  and  mystery,  which  will  cause 
fou  to  burn  the  midnight  oil  until  the  last  page  is  finished,  read  '  The  Clock 
and  the  Key.'  "—Milwaukee  Wisconsin. 

"One  of  the  most  highly  exciting  and  ingenious  stories  we  have  read  for 
a  long  time  is  '  The  Clock  and  the  Key.'  "—London  Mail. 

D.     APPLETON     AND    COMPANY,     NEW    YORK. 


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